The Knightly Recipe
by Wanderer of the Roads
Summary: An attempt at baking cookies goes awry when the oven explodes and the knights gets pulled into the future. Crazy parties, adolescent woes and extramarital affairs are just icing on the cake. Maybe it WAS the brown sugar after all.
1. Fifi, Dotti, Isidore and Inez

Chapter One: Fifi, Dotti, Isidore and Inez

"The oven's gonna explode!" screeched Francesca, my ten-year-old sister, crouching in front of the said oven, her nose inches from the glass door.

"It's not gonna explode any time soon," I snapped, whisking four eggs furiously. "Quit being paranoid."

"It says _light _brown sugar here, not brown sugar!" complained Colette, my fraternal twin sister, waving the recipe in front of my nose. "Geez, can't you even get the ingredients _right_?"

"Shut _up_!" I growled, pushing her hand out of the way as I reached up for another mixing bowl. "Brown sugar is the same as light brown sugar with a couple of extra calories. Besides, recipes are more like _guidelines_ than actual rules."

Colette gasped, and I tossed her a snobbish look. "What? Jealous that I can actually put a quote from Pirates of the Caribbean in context when you're supposed to be the movie's number one fan?"

"You suck, _Fifi_," said Colette smartly, turning around on her heels to her cookie dough mix.

"Thank you,_ Dotti_," I shot back, ignoring the dark look she gave me.

Perhaps that needs some explanation. Since my dad is a lover of extreme weather conditions (he married himself to Hurricane Dorothy when he was six- weirdo), he gave all of his children storm/hurricane middle names. So I'm Fifi, Colette's Dotti, Francesca's Inez and Christopher's (nineteen-year-old brother) Isidore.

Chris is like, so lucky. Isidore is actually sort of cool. It sounds like Isildur, you know, from the Lord of the Rings. But _Fifi_?

Who the heck calls their daughter Fifi?

Well, my dad, obviously.

And if you think he has a sense of humour (since my middle name is highly entertaining), then you've got it wrong. Way wrong. He has absolutely zero sense of humour. He's a doctor/workaholic who spends the little of his time away from work watching the weather forecast on TV.

Yes, the weather forecast. I kid you not.

Okay, so he's weird and biological (if you have a stomach ache, he asks "Is your _duodenum_ alright?" instead of "Is your _tummy_ alright?" like a normal person). But we still love him. That's why me and my sisters were turning the kitchen upside down, trying to pull together a decent dinner for him.

Normally, mum would be doing this instead of us, but since she was halfway around the world in India on a supposedly "spiritual" trip with her friends from the yoga centre, we kids were left to fend for ourselves.

Trust me, putting a sixteen-year-old who could barely scramble an egg with her fraternal twin who cares more about her stained Miss Sixty jeans than a jammed egg beater and a paranoid girl who is certain that the oven will explode but insists sitting in front of it in a lavish kitchen their mother prefers left untouched is one of the stupidest things you can do.

Right, so I'm as bright as I suppose I am. But Christopher surely is, he claimed to be at a drama rehearsal at the local theatre. I knew better than to believe _that_, of course. It's a known fact that the theatre is closed during the last week of June, right before the summer holidays. I hate it when people lie and get away with it. Grrr.

"Franny, can you _please_ wash the asparagus instead of sitting there?" I asked, sounding as nice as I could manage, whisking up a decent-looking cake mix.

Francesca started looking panicky as she pointed to the oven. "But someone has to keep an eye on the oven in case it explo-"

"Franny, for the last time, it will NOT explode, so quit your moaning and get your lazy butt over here," I snapped. I'm not the nicest person when annoyed.

"Okay," grumbled my younger sister as she dragged herself up.

We were actually quiet for a moment as we worked on our own stuff. The oven hummed and I could smell the faint scent of baked buttered potato. I smiled as I dumped a whole block of butter into my own mixture, then turned on the egg beater and started drilling into the solid substance.

"Hey, do we have baking soda in here?" Colette interrupted the peaceful silence, standing on tiptoes while peering into the cupboards.

"Use baking powder," I said.

"But it says 'use half teaspoon baking soda' here," she argued, poking her recipe.

I sighed. "Do I _have_ to tell you again?"

"But it'll _ruin_ the dough! And I'm not gonna make it again, the vanilla won't come off my shorts," she ranted, glaring at me.

"Alright, fine, I surrender," I threw my hands heavenward, forgetting that I was still holding the moving egg-beater. Colette screamed as chunks of the chocolate cake mix plastered to her top and hair, and I nearly dropped the machine in surprise.

"Turn it off, stupid!" shrieked Colette, ducking behind the counter for safety.

I did, and Francesca squealed with laughter and licked the mix off her fingers. "Do it again! Do it again!"

"Don't eat it, Franny, the eggs aren't cooked," I warned, grinning as Colette stormed out of the kitchen. "C'mon, let's shape the cookies first."

We molded the cookie dough into hearts, doves and random shapes on cookie sheets, then added raisins and chocolate chips. I was starting to warm up to this whole cooking thing- everything looked yummy!

"Alrighty, let's get this into the oven," I dusted imaginary dust off my hands when the last cookie was shaped.

"Cool!" Francesca jumped to open door of the other oven. Boy, was I glad that mum loves cooking. We would never finish the dinner on time if not for the huge kitchen packed with all the utensils from K-Mart. I bet our kitchen is as good as Jamie's.

"Where on earth is Colette? Don't tell me she has to wash her hair because of a bit of chocolate," I said as I turned on the heat.

"You get her, I'll watch the oven," said Francesca dutifully, her eyes already glued on the oven door.

I rolled my eyes. "Seriously, Franny, it will not explode."

She shrugged and I shook my head. She could be so stubborn sometimes.

The telephone in the hall rang as I walked by, and I grabbed the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Honey!"

"Mum!" I grinned into the phone. "Wassup?"

"Are you kids alright?"

"Yeah, I mean, the cooking's alright, I guess. But Colette's clothes are not," I said innocently.

"Just don't get my kitchen too messed up, okay?" said mum, her tone serious.

"Geez, mum, we're not _that_ messed up," I said a bit defensively.

"I hope not," she teased. "Nothing has exploded so far, right?"

"You're as bad as Franny, but not, nothing has exploded," I assured her.

"Good. Pass the phone to Franny, will you?"

"Sure," I put the receiver on the desk and yelled, "Franny! Phone!"

Colette stalked downstairs then, wearing old jeans and a T-shirt, her wet hair twisted into a loose bun. We gave each other dirty (as in mean) looks as we passed each other.

We don't get along with each other famously, I guess. I mean, she's blonde, I'm brunette. She's a cheerleader, I'm on the school council. She changes boyfriends every ten days, I've never been asked out before. I know stereotyping is unfair, but it's not entirely untrue.

Well, good thing we are fraternal twins.

I popped to the bathroom to wash the grease off my face. Cooking in summer is killer. Why can't we install air-cons in the kitchen? But maybe the gas taps will somehow set off the air-cons, and something will explode. Whatever.

I saw Christopher on the phone as I hopped down the stairs, obviously having just come in with his sneakers still on and a messenger bag on his shoulder.

"Yeah mum," I heard him say. "See if you can bring back some Indian carpets or something, the theatre needs some for an upcoming drama. Yeah, whatever, I'm not sure…"

"Hey Chris, where ye been?" I asked as I skipped by, snatching his cap.

"Hey! Gimme that!" he shouted, and I grinned. Christopher's really insecure without his caps, I have no idea why. It really ticks him off when his head is uncovered, and it's highly amusing when he is annoyed.

"Look mum, I'll talk to you later, okay?" he shot daggers at me while I paraded with his cap. I know, I was being childish, but I could only torment Chris when he was at home now because he lived in his dorms for the better half of the year on the other coast. So sue me for making use of the precious time.

"Yes, okay, I know, I- mum! _I'll talk to you later, okay_?" Chris looked ready to fly off the handle as he grabbed a handful of his mousy hair. "Buh-_bye_ mum. Geez, okay, I love ya. Satisfied? Bye!"

I squealed as Christopher leapt at me, dodging expertly from his clutches and charged for the backyard.

"Can't you two stop acting like babies for once?" grumbled Colette as we rushed past.

"Ooh, looks like it's someone's Adidas special edition gold cap!" I yelled over my shoulder, running as fast as my legs would take me.

"Give it back, you twit!" Christopher yelled back, getting closer each second. Geez, life is unfair. He's six feet two and runs like a deer. I'm five six and run like a hippo.

"Ahhh! Have mercy on me, Christopher!" I screamed in mock terror.

He pounced right on me and I nearly choked laughing. I somehow managed to crawl from his death grip and he growled, "You little-"

I screamed both from Christopher's wrestle and a enormous bang from our kitchen. I stared in open-mouth horror as black smoke billowed from the kitchen's large bay windows in large clumps, my brother took advantage of my momentary shock and snatched his cap back, screwing it back onto his head.

"Holy shit," he swore as he scrambled onto his feet, me doing the same.

I heard our neighbour Mr McLaughlin, shout at us and his hyperactive Yorkshire terrier barking like crazy, but I ignored them. My heart pounded wildly as I ran across the backyard, confused and scared.

"Shit, shit, shit," muttered Christopher, each shit getting louder than the one before. I suppose he swears a lot when he panics. And he had every right to do so now.

I screamed again as both my sisters came running from the kitchen, screeching and flailing their arms like chickens, and collided straight into us.

"Eep!" I yelped, falling butt-first onto the hard floor, with Colette nearly knocking the wind out of me.

"Get off me, you fat pig!" I shrieked, though she was a far cry from a fat pig.

"What the heck happened in there?" demanded Christopher, rubbing his back.

"The oven exploded!" cried Francesca almost triumphantly. Almost.

I winced. "The cookies or the baked potatoes?"

"The cookies!" shouted Colette square in my face. "I_ told_ you! It's_ light_ brown sugar! Not brown sugar!"

"Brown sugar doesn't blow ovens up like that!" I screamed right back.

"Well, tell me why else it exploded?" she returned, getting hysterical.

"Woah! Calm down, you two!" intervened Christopher, playing the peacemaker. "Faye's right, ovens don't blow up because you don't follow the recipe exactly. They're not freaking recipe-readers."

I sneered rather nastily. "I've always questioned the presence of a brain in that head of yours, I guess there _is_ no brain after all."

Colette looked angry enough to explode herself. "Why you-"

Okay, let me get this straight. I'm not the one to provoke others under normal circumstances. But when there's just been a blast in your mum' s kitchen and your sister keeps shoving the fact that you used brown sugar instead of_ light_ brown sugar in your face, it gets a bit irritating.

"Ugh, snap out of it, will you?" barked Christopher, pushing the two of us apart. "Let's find someone to check the gas and stuff, then clean up the mess, alright?"

"So much for guidelines, Fifi," scoffed Colette, dusting herself.

"Shut up, Dotti," I grumbled. "Mum's gonna kill us."

"Shut up, you two, and grab a broom or something," said Christopher, exercising his brotherly authority.

"Shut up, Isidore," snapped Colette. "Grab a broom yourself."

I groaned when I saw the state of the kitchen. A chunk of the wall had been taken out from the blast, and there was a gory mess of cookie dough, flour, brown sugar, chocolate, and… footprints?

"What the hell?" I said aloud, staring at the choloatey footprints leading to the guestroom next to the kitchen. "Did you guys make those?"

"What?" asked Colette, frowning at the footsteps. "Geez, looks like Big Foot's been here."

"A lot of Big Foots!" piped up Francesca, excitedly.

"Big Feet, Franny," corrected Christopher. "Does that mean…" he trailed off.

"Someone's in our house?" I suggested, my voice falling to a whisper.

"Someone… other than us?" added Colette, her eyes widening.

We glanced at each other, silent.

"Maybe we should… grab a saucepan?" I whispered.

Christopher nodded wordlessly, and we scuttled around the bar table dividing the kitchen from the dining room, me taking a saucepan and a wooden spoon, Christopher a frying pan, Colette a rolling pin and Francesca a banana in each hand, grinning like mad. I was starting to question my little sister's sanity.

Our big brother started following the footprints, a mass of brown smudged together, cautiously moving around them. He pressed his back against the wall next to the door leading to the adjourning guestroom, holding his frying pan up like a gun, and gestured us to stand to his left. Then he peered around the door, then motioned us to follow. We crept into the empty carpeted room, and I found myself scanning the room, staring hard for a pair of feet peeking under a sofa or curtains.

I suddenly felt like Inspector Clouseau from the Pink Panther. You know, the part he does every time he walks into a room.

"Lovely weather we're having," I broke the silence, faking a French accent.

"We are?"

I screamed like there was no tomorrow and swung around, eyes closed, as my saucepan made contact with something solid. The thing yelped in agony and my eyes snapped open to find one- two- three- four- _five_ pointy things in a semi-circle, surrounding me.

And those pointy things were swords.

Christopher more or less squealed. "Who the hell are you?"

I shrieked as the victim of my almighty saucepan swing sit up, rubbing his pink cheek painfully. I stared at the guy, who looked about Christopher's age, with a lot of facial hair, dark curls that would have put Mozart's wig to shame, dressed in the most exquisite costume I've ever seen- head to toe medieval with a real sword at his belt.

I looked up and stared at the five other guys.

"Um, can you, like, remove your swords? If they're real?" I asked them, rather nervously.

They exchanged uncertain glances, then the one with the red cape nodded, and they all returned their swords to their sheaths. I guess they _were_ real, then.

"You have quite a swing, my lady," my victim told me with a wry grin.

"Erm, thank you," I said, blushing.

"I am Arthur Castus," the Red Cape Guy said suddenly. "And these are my men. May I inquire our exact locations?"

"You're in my house," answered Christopher, beyond tense.

"Not _your_ house, it's _our_ house," Colette spoke up, eyeing the man on the floor. "Hi, I'm Colette," she told him, flashing him a flirty grin.

"Shut up, Dotti, we don't know who the hell these people are," I snapped, aggravated by her attitude.

"You look like the guy from Sin City," said Francesca, staring up at Red Cape Man.

I turned to her. "Sin City? Don't tell me you've watched that movie." I gave Chris an accusing glance.

"What? It's not my fault she came barging in," said Chris, exasperated. "Look, Faye, we have something way more important to deal with here. Like these people."

"Have you lost your way or something?" Colette asked the guy on the floor. "The local theatre's just a few streets down."

"Theatre?" the guy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I mean, why else would you be wearing this weird stuff?" Colette pointed out.

"This_ is_ normal attire," insisted Red Cape Man.

I gaped. "Are you kidding me?" I turned to Chris. "Can you please go and call 911? I think we have a situation here."

"Are you mad?" squealed Colette. "The police has much more important stuff to deal with. Like catching murderers."

"How do we know if _they're_ not murderers?" I scoffed. Then stopped short. "You aren't a murderer, are you?" I squinted at him. "You _do_ look like the guy from Sin City."

"We are not from 'Sin City'," replied Red Cape Man, ignoring my former question. "We are from Hadrian's Wall. We were tracing certain strange noises, then we found ourselves here."

"Where the heck is this Hadrian's Wall?" asked Colette.

"Now, look man, this keeps getting off-topic. Who the heck are you? What are you doing here?" I asked, my tone serious.

Red Cape Man opened his mouth to answer, but was cut short by the shrill wails of sirens.

"Shit," commented Christopher as we watched a fire engine and a police car pull into the driveway through the windows in the room. Francesca jumped up and down, waving to the officers.

I was too busy looking smug to notice the completely bewildered looks on the guys' faces. I turned to Colette, "Who says the police are too busy catching murderers?"

Wow! A new story, a new start! This idea's been hanging around too long to be ignored, I had to type it out. So, my second attempt at a humour fiction, with a bit of romance as a side dish. This is rather long for a start, but I want to establish a strong base of my characters, I hope this is appropriate.

For my readers of Destined To Be, I'm sorry to say that I have no inspiration whatsoever for the story. I've tried to write, but I just can't get anywhere. I'll still try, but it'll probably be a long time before I can type up a decent update.

Anyway, I hope it was an interesting start! And yes, please review and tell me what you think! I'll update asap, though I can't guarantee one within this week because I'm like SO busy these few days. It's late and I have drama tomorrow, so good night! And review! )


	2. 000, Dislocated Jaws, and Icepacks

**A/N: **I'm SO sorry for the delay everyone! I actually finished this chapter about two days ago, but there was a bug (which is now fixed) and I couldn't login so I couldn't upload it or anything! Anyway, here is the second chapter finally... enjoy!

Chapter 2: 000, Dislocated Jaws, and Icepacks

"We got a report that there was an explosion in here. Is anyone hurt?"

"Nope, officer, we're fine," said Christopher with a big I'm-alright-man-grin. He didn't even look as if he were pretending- he was _that_ good at acting.

"What exploded?" asked the burly policeman. I just couldn't picture him chasing murderers.

Christopher jerked his thumb at the general direction of the kitchen. "The oven, when the girls were baking cookies."

"Do you ladies need a checkup?" the officer asked, looking all concerned.

"Nope, we're fine," replied Colette with a bright smile. "Thanks," she added quickly.

"Alright then, let's have some gas people check the kitchen," said the officer, starting to move towards the door when he caught sight of the um… medieval people. Heck, I didn't even_ know _who they were yet!

I winced as the policeman frowned suspiciously. "Who are you?"

Red Cape Man stepped forward, puffed up his chest like a robin, and repeated his introduction. "I am Arthur Castus, and these are my men. We hail from Hadrian's Wall and are under the command of Lord Publius."

The officer stared at him, and Red Cape Man stared right back, until Christopher broke the silence with a very director-ish laugh, clapping loudly.

"Excellent, dude!" he exclaimed, slinging an arm over Arthur's shoulders (those two were about the same height). "That was _exactly_ the tone I was looking for! I could hear the _authority_ in it! I knew I didn't cast you for nothing."

I nearly sighed in relief and he gave me a wink. Christopher was a genius!

The officer looked as if he bought it, but Arthur looked as if he was about to speak, and I knew if he did, our cover would be blown. Without thinking twice, I rushed to him and practically jumped onto his foot.

He let out a painful oof and his paled drastically.

"An ant!" I screamed at his boot, stomping onto it mercilessly. "Die, ant, die!"

I could see my siblings struggling to keep their faces straight, while the others gaped at me like fish out of water. When I was certain that the nonexistent ant was dead, I calmly stepped off Arthur's foot and reached up to pat him on the shoulder.

"Sorry, dude, but I just can't let ants into our house," I said sympathetically. "Mum's rules."

The officer tried to look as un-bewildered as possible. He cleared his throat noisily and said, "Uh, alright, I'll get the gas people, alright?" He shuffled towards the door.

"Why don't you guys go upstairs and rehearse Scene five first?" said Christopher loudly for the officer to hear. "Colette, you have the script right?"

"Sure," Colette half-squealed enthusiastically, her eyes shamelessly locked with my victim. "Come on up to my room!"

Arthur looked as if he was about to argue again, but I think he saw my eyes trained on his foot, so he simply nodded and followed the others without another word. Poor guy, I was positive that he was limping up the stairs.

"And I'll go get the pizza menu," volunteered Francesca cheerfully, skipping away.

----------------------------

"Thanks for your time, officer," I said as I saw him to the door an hour later.

"Don't mention it," he answered gallantly with a smile. "Everything's in place. Just be careful with the ovens, eh?"

"Of course," I replied.

"Bye, officer!" added Christopher.

"Bye!" I smiled and waved to the departing officer, then slammed the door shut with a relieved sigh.

"Can we order a Hawaiian pizza without pineapples?" asked Francesca, brandishing the Pizza Hut flyer, skipping into the hall.

"Franny, a pizza without pineapples is hardly Hawaiian at all," pointed out Christopher logically.

"Oh," Franny looked dejected, then brightened. Talk about mood swings. "Let's order Pepperoni, then!"

"It's only five-thirty, Franny," I said, plucking the flyer from her hand. "Besides, we have more important stuff to deal with.

"Like?" she asked, pouting.

"Like figuring who and how our guests got here," I replied smoothly. "Have you talked to them yet?"

"I gave them water," said Francesca proudly. "I used the Winnie the Pooh cups mummy gave me for Christmas."

"Oookay," I said uncertainly, swapping looks with my big bro. I started towards the kitchen. "I'm grabbing a soda first myself. I'm SO glad they actually got people to clean up the mess-"

A piercing Phantom style scream rocked the house, and I nearly fell back in surprise. Me and Chris' eyes met, an unspoken message passing between us.

I took off for the stairs and sprinted up the steps, totally forgetting the fact that it was _Chris_ who was supposed to run like a deer, not _me_. Geez, I suppose the human body gets abnormal under urgent circumstances.

The scream was abruptly cut off and I found myself gasping in panic as I zoomed towards Colette's room. Were the guys molesting her? Or were they… raping her?

"Oh God, oh God," I breathed as her bright pink door loomed closer. "For once in my life, please don't let me be right…"

The first thing that met my eyes when I threw open the door was Colette's green eyes, wide in terror. Then I saw a guy I never noticed with his hand over her mouth. Then I saw red.

"Get your filthy fat hands off her, you ugly, smelly, pig-faced pervert!" I screamed as I launched myself at my sister's assailant, knocking him right off his feet and onto the black, fuzzy carpet.

I wasted no time in putting my fist into action. It would have connected with his jaw if his hand hadn't shot out and caught my wrist in an iron grip. I growled and activated my other hand, but he was too fast for me.

"Hands OFF you grimy asshole!" I bellowed into his face as I struggled against him. Geez, what a grip he had.

Suddenly, I was pushed onto my feet, then slammed against a wall, my hands pinned to my sides. My eyes closed automatically at the pain on the back of my skull, and I whimpered pitifully.

"Ow, that _hurt_!" I whined, opening my eyes.

And froze.

Okay, I take that back. The fat hands, ugly, smelly, pig-faced pervert part, I mean. And the grimy asshole. No, maybe he was a bit grimy, but still, that was beside the point.

Because the guy standing before me was _far_ from that.

"What's wrong with you, woman?" he grumbled in a deep, low voice from his throat, his discontent as plain as in his dark brown eyes narrowed into angry slits as he glared at me.

I opened my mouth to speak, and it was my turn be the fish out of water. "I- I-"

"Christ, Faye, I never knew you could _run_- HEY! Get off my sister!"

My attacker was peeled off me, and I blinked as I tried hard to regain my senses, hearing two crunches in the meantime. When I did (regain my senses, I mean), Christopher had fallen like a ton of bricks, clutching his jaw. Arthur and my Victim had come between the guys, both with dislocated jaws, and Colette was fretting like a mother hen.

I nearly laughed as I watched the scene before me. It was surreal No, it was su-NOT-real! I mean, there was a bunch of medieval-attired guys stalking in my house, one with a pink saucepan mark, one with a injured jaw, my brother was a crumpled pile on the floor, my twin sister was doing this funny panic dance, and my little sister was… on the phone?

"000? Yeah, there's been a fight in my sister's bedroom and we need an ambulance-"

"What!" I leapt across the room and snatched the receiver from Francesca, my temporarily paralyzed brain kicking into gear again. "Hello? I'm sorry about that, it was a drama rehearsal and my sister got it mixed up-"

"No, it's NOT drama!" shouted Francesca frantically to the receiver. "It's REAL!"

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry, miss, bye," I quickly hung up and let out a frustrated shriek. "FRANCESCA!" She squealed delightfully and ran to the other side of the room with a silly grin on her face.

Colette was still fussing about. "Oh my God, Chris are you alright? You need an ice pack! Where IS the bloody ice pack! I swear, I'll _die_ of a heart attack-"

I took a deep breath, and screamed at the top of my lungs. "SHUT UP!"

Everything stopped moving, to my satisfaction, and I plopped down onto Colette's bed, cradling my head tiredly. I let the silence linger for a moment or two, then asked, "What happened?"

"Colette screamed," answered Francesca helpfully from behind a beanbag. "Do I need to call an ambulance? I know the number-"

"No! Franny, thank you," I cut her off promptly. "Yeah, Colette, you screamed. May I ask why?"

Colette looked as if her feet were bitten by ants, prancing like a keyed up racehorse. "You won't believe what I found out about these guys! I _swear_, you'll scream as hard as I did!"

"I find that hard to believe," I said dully. "Chris, are you alright? Talk to me."

"I'm gonna KILL that bastard over there," declared my pretty ticked off brother with a slur, pointing a menacing finger at the supposed bastard.

"You didn't molest my sister, did you?" I asked him, noticing an attractive tattoo on his cheekbone. A tattoo on the face? What was that guy thinking?

"I found her screaming unsettling," he answered darkly. I had no idea if he was looking at me or not, he had curtained his face with his shoulder length hair.

That brought us back to the point. "Right. So why were you screaming, Colette?"

"I told you you wouldn't believe it if I told you!" she said, barely containing her excitement.

"Colette, you're not answering me," I said with a sigh. "Will you please just open your big mouth and TELL us?"

My sister surrendered. "Alright, geez, no need to _shout_- yeah, I'll tell you- _they're from the past_!"

Me and Chris burst out laughing. Not your ordinary polite laughs, but hysterical, body-jerking, fist-hitting laughs.

"Could you be even more ridiculous, Fifi?" I choked through my laughter, but faltered when I found seven pairs of eyes staring somberly at me.

I was reduced to a few awkward coughs when even Chris stopped laughing.

"You're being serious?" I asked in a small voice.

They nodded while I shook my head.

I gasped and ran to the toilet, locking myself in. I was about to run the tap when something hit me. Then I unlocked the door and ran back to the room, my head suddenly crystal clear.

I strode in purposefully with my debate persona intact. "Okay, you know what I just realized? I realized that you have given me NO proof whatsoever that these gentlemen ARE from the past. You have only given me your word, of which I have every right to doubt."

"You want proof?" asked Colette. She stalked over to my Victim and pulled out one of his swords. I yelped and jumped back. "_Here_ is the proof!"

"Woah, careful with it, Dotti!" I squeaked, knowing too well that Colette isn't a particularly careful person.

"They're real, Fifi!" she shot back, waving the sword around. Everyone ducked to avoid being beheaded. "I _tell_ you- they're real! And it's all YOUR fault they're here!"

"Put down the sword, Colette!" yelled Christopher crossly, grabbing her wrist and wrung the sword out of her hand. "It's no one's _fault_ these soldiers are here."

"We are knights," corrected Arthur dignifiedly.

"Knights?" echoed Chris.

"Why does that sound familiar?" asked Colette, rubbing her chin.

Francesca started singing, "_Summer days, driftin' away, to ah, all those summer nights_! Welowelowelowoo!"

I knitted my brow and thought aloud. "Arthur… knights… Arthur… swords…"

The doorbell interrupted our intellectual reverie, and we exchanged alarmed looks.

"I'll get the door!" enthused Francesca, running out of the room.

"SHIT!" we exploded, and in scurrying confusion, we slammed square into each other.

"Alright, don't panic!" said Christopher authoritatively. "Exercise self-control!"

Colette was shrieking. "Hide them! Hide them!"

I heard the door open downstairs, and a loud, "DADDY!"

"Shhhhh!" I desperately tried to shut Colette up. "Listen to me, Dotti! Go downstairs, turn on the Weather Channel, and start talking about the relative humidity. He won't even notice."

Colette nodded and made to go out the door when we heard dad ask, "What's the burnt smell?"

"The oven exploded!" came Franny's manic response.

"Where are your brother and sisters?" We groaned simultaneously.

"Shit! He's coming up!" hissed Chris, wincing, more probably because of his jaw.

"The bathroom!" whispered Colette, pushing Arthur and my Victim towards our adjourning bathroom.

"No!" I stopped them, pushing them to Colette's enormous couch. "Just sit down and don't look up!"

Francesca's voice was coming closer. "We were baking cookies and then it exploded!"

"Are your eardrums functioning?"

"What are eardrums?"

"Sit down!" I grumbled, forcing the Tattoo guy onto the floor just as the door was thrown open.

"Dad!" we yelled together. "Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to DA-DEE, happy birthday to you!" Call it siblings' instincts.

"Oh, thanks," he said absent-mindedly, a bit dazed by our entrance hymn. "The oven exploded?"

"Yeah, the police came over just now and cleared it up," said Christopher nonchalantly. "You were in a surgery when they phoned you."

Dad peered at Christopher. "Why is your mandible out of place?"

"What?"

"Your mandible," repeated dad, pointing to his own jaw.

"Oh, I uh fell onto the counter when the oven exploded," said Chris.

"Did you tell your mother about it?"

"Time difference," answered Chris smoothly. "But she'll know." He then gestured to our guests from the past. "Meet my new buddies, dad."

My eyes widened. What was he _thinking_?

"Hello," smiled dad with a manly wave. "Doctor Ralph Parkhurst. Impressive costumes, you've got."

Arthur, again, looked humiliated. "Sir, I-"

I interrupted his speech immediately. "Guess what, dad? I actually found an _ant_ today- on Arthur's boot!"

Arthur paled, and dad nodded dismissively. "Your mother wouldn't be happy about that."

"I killed it, actually, so yeah," I said casually, earning a dark look from Arthur. "That's Arthur, by the way."

Colette jumped in. "And that's Lance, Gavin, Gary, Dan, and- and Tim."

Luckily, dad was never the one for names. I guess after memorizing all the names of the blood vessels in the human body, you wouldn't be too fond of names either.

"Nice to meet you, I'm going for a shower first," he waved again and hurried out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

"I'm going to order pizza!" Francesca sprang up and left as well.

We stayed quiet until Franny's footsteps petered out and a door slammed. Then I rushed out of the door, grabbed a notebook and a pen from my room, and returned to Colette's room.

"Okay, names again," I said, taking a seat on the bed. "_Real_ names."

For your information, _I _am not fond of names either. It usually takes me a year to remember the names of all the kids in my class. And when I finally do, it's time for a new class again. Yeah, it's a vicious cycle.

So I have this little name pad which I carry around with me. It helps a bit, if not a lot.

This was what I scribbled down as Colette talked.

_**ARTHUR** Arthur 6 feet, medium build, square jaw, green eyes, tanned. Red cape, fancy sword. Formal, cold, leader-ish. Doesn't like me._

_**LANCELOT** Lance 6 feet, lean but muscular, goatee, curly dark hair, brown eyes, HOT, pink saucepan mark on face. Black uniform, two swords. Killer grin, flirting with Colette already._

_ remind Colette that she has a boyfriend_

_**GAWAIN** Gavin 6 feet, burly, broad-shouldered, long blonde messy hair that begs to be cut, goatee, brown eyes. An axe thing and a sword. Looks like grizzly bear. Friendly._

_**GALAHAD** Gary Five eleven, cute, boyish, curly hair, looks like LANCELOT but not as hot. Sword. Looks uncomfortable, a bit shy._

_**DAGONET** Dan Six two, gigantic, bald. Stern. Scary axe-looking thing. Looks older than the others._

_**TRISTAN** Tim Six two, dark shaggy shoulder-length hair, wait- are those braids?- tanned, a blue tattoo on high cheekbones, can't see his eyes, looks pissed, jaw slightly swollen (thanks to Chris). A bow and a quiver of arrows, a sword. HOT. Hates me and Chris. Great._

"What are you doing?" asked Chris, trying to peek into my notebook.

"Hey!" I protested, squirming away. "Alright, now we know who you are, we'll tell you who we are. I'm Faye."

"I'm Colette, Faye's twin," said Colette with a flirty grin directed at Lancelot.

"Twins?" asked Gala- no, Gawain. Grrr.

"You two do not look alike," said Lancelot with a grin. "Both beautiful in your own ways."

Aw, how sweet.

"We are fraternal twins," I clarified. "We were never supposed to look alike."

"And never will," added Colette with a meaningful look at my way.

"I'm Christopher, and our little sister's Francesca," interjected Christopher. "If you don't mind, I'm going to get an icepack now." He sent Tristan a glare and left the room.

I turned to Tristan, who was still looking pissed. Fantastic, we were getting along already.

Deciding to play the gracious host, I smiled sweetly, "Your jaw doesn't look that good either- would you like an icepack too?"

----------------------------

Yay! Chapter two's finally done! I'm sorry for the long wait, the past week's been insane at school, and I couldn't login to update this file. So a longer chapter in compensation.

Anyways, I had a competition last week and I got two Third places in dressage and a Second in show-jumping! (horse-riding) Lol, that was completely random, but I just felt like sharing with you guys because I'm so happy with myself :

Thanks for the great reviews for the first chapter! I'm glad you all like it! I'm really happy that this fic has already gotten over a hundred hits, thanks to all my readers! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I'll update asap!


	3. The Deceived Stage Actors from Macedonia

Chapter 3: The Deceived Stage Actors from Macedonia

"This is a sofa, cushion, lamp, carpet, fork, cup-"

"Colette, I think they have cups back there," I interrupted my sister's 21st lecture which had so far consisted of single words. "Why don't you tell them about the TV?"

"I can't find that damn hurricane documentary," complained Chris as he entered the TV room. "Have you seen it?"

"Have you looked in the box?" I asked, pointing to a plastic box in the corner.

"It'd better be there," grumbled Chris as he dug into the contents.

"Yeah, the Weather Channel gets a bit bland sometimes," I said mildly.

"That's like, the biggest understatement in the century," declared Colette as she switched on the TV.

There was a collective metallic screech when the knights all unsheathed their swords, desperately searching for the voice that was saying "half a teaspoon of baking powder will do". I snorted, amused by their frantic faces. Except Tristan, who was staring calmly at the TV, slouching languidly in his armchair.

My sister, oblivious to their defensive act, said happily as the screen came to focus. "Oh, good. Jamie. That's Jamie Oliver, guys. He's a cook and tries to get kids eat celery- WOAH! What do you think you're doing!"

"Okay, time to collect your pointy swords, this is getting dangerous," I announced, easily plucking Galahad's sword from his hand, who was still gaping at Jamie.

I yelped as my arm nearly fell off. Swords don't look _that_ heavy!

"Is he… here?" asked Dagonet uncertainly as he peered suspiciously at Jamie, not even noticing I'd taken away his weapon. This time I fell right onto the floor together with Dagonet's gigantic sword. I saw Tristan smirking at me and I glared at him as I struggled to get up.

"No, it's like, an image, but a moving one," explained Colette, answering Dagonet's question.

Gawain looked both perplexed and terrified. "How come I see him but he's not here?"

"There's something called a video camera which captures moving images and sound as well," added Christopher helpfully, filing through a stack of DVDs.

"Um, some help please?" I waved, trying to get some attention.

Okay, I suppose seeing Jamie doing his trademark lightning chopping could be fascinating, but it was no excuse to ignore a damsel in distress.

"He-LLO?" I half-yelled exasperatedly after two minutes of awed silence. "I can hear my ligaments ripping!"

Tristan sighed heavily and got out of his seat, easily lifting up two of the swords by their hilts, and asked impatiently, "Where?"

I blinked as I got another close up of his tattoos. "What where?"

"The swords," he said curtly.

"You're holding them," I said stupidly.

He came close to rolling his eyes, but chose to pin me with a scorning glare. "Where shall I place them?"

"Oh, that," I snapped back to consciousness, trying to hold back the blush that was threatening to surface. "Um, Chris? Where are those costume boxes from the theatre?"

"The laundry," he replied, eyes glued on the TV.

I found the said box, and dragged it back to the TV Room. Tristan deposited the swords inside and proceeded to disarm the rest of them.

"Hey!" protested Lancelot when Tristan wrestled the sword out of his hand. "What are you doing?"

"The lady's request," answered Tristan plainly.

"But why?" asked Lancelot again.

Colette turned to him and said, "Because you won't be needing them, and dad will get suspicious if he saw them."

"And you need clothes," I said. "Chris?"

"Okay, later," he said, tearing his eyes from an extremely appetizing tomato soup. "Where's our pizza anyway?"

As if on cue, the doorbell rang with a zap.

"I'll get it," I volunteered.

I was giving the pizza man some cash when dad came jogging downstairs, back in his doctor's attire. I frowned when he sat down to put on his shoes.

"Where are you going, dad?" I asked, shutting the door while juggling four boxes of pizzas.

"A car crash," he said hurriedly, picking up his briefcase. "Seven critically injured, I'm needed."

"But it's your birthday!" I whined disappointedly. "I ordered the anchovies and veggies pizza just for you!"

"Sorry, honey," he said, kissing me on the forehead. "But they need me. I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?"

"Alright," I said, deflated.

"Good girl," he smiled and headed for the garage. "Enjoy the pizza for me, okay?"

----------------------------

The knights surely enjoyed the pizza. Sure, they were a tad cautious at first, but I guess you would be wary if someone from the future shoved a plastic disc topped with Mozzarella cheese in your face and told you it's dizzca.

"Where's the pepperoni?" asked Francesca, licking some cheese off her fingers.

"Galahad ate the last of it," I said accusingly.

"What?" asked Galahad innocently.

"You're lucky Gareth isn't here," said Lancelot with a chuckle, thoroughly enjoying his slice of Hawaiian (without pineapples). "You'll be left with nothing but crumbs in a fraction of a minute."

Arthur smiled. "Not to mention Bors."

"Who are they?" asked Colette as she rearranged her long legs. I saw Lancelot's eyes following her movements. Ew.

"They are knights as well, in our division," replied Arthur. "We have twenty men."

"How come they aren't here?" asked Francesca. "I want to meet them."

"It would be really crowded then," I muttered.

"Yes, that itself is rather interesting," said Dagonet musingly. "We were a few days' journey from the Wall when this happened."

"What happened exactly?" asked Christopher.

"It was night, and we had stopped to camp," said Gawain. "Tristan was out scouting, me and Galahad were hunting."

"What's scouting?" asked Francesca, climbing onto the sofa, squashing in between Dagonet and Galahad.

"Inspecting if an area is safe," answered Dagonet, shifting to make space for my little sister.

"Dag and Lancelot went as well after you left," continued Arthur, rubbing his nose. "You were gone for more than half an hour and then I got anxious, so I went after you."

"We heard some strange noises," said Galahad with a frown. "It sounded like screaming, very distant, but vivid. We thought it peculiar and went deeper into the woods."

"We heard those noises too," said Dagonet. "No doubt Tristan did as well."

Tristan nodded noncommittally as did Arthur. He said, "Then there was a very loud noise, like a tree felled."

"Then we were here," finished Lancelot. "And I got an injured cheek," he added ruefully, grinning at me.

I stuck my tongue out at him. "You scared me, alright?"

"I wonder who was more frightened," smiled Arthur.

"I think it was the explosion you heard," said Christopher analytically. "But how it got you here, I have no idea."

"What are we supposed to do with you, then?" asked Colette. "I mean, you _are_ from the past and this _is_ the 21st century. Okay, that sounded weird."

"Which year are you from?" I asked Arthur. "If you were counting years back then."

"We are under the reign of Emperor Valentinian III," he replied. "It was on the fifteenth of July in the year 445 when we got here."

There was a stunned silence while we gawked at him. 445? I was thinking of bigger numbers. At least, 1000… but 445? I sincerely hoped that he did not mean B.C., A.D. was frightening enough.

"Okay, don't panic," Chris broke the silence somewhat shakily. "Emperor, I'm assuming that he's Roman, correct?"

They nodded, and Chris let out a big breath.

"A.D.!" announced Chris, thumping himself on his chest.

"Phew!" I collapsed against the coffee table. "So that only makes a 1561-year gap between us."

"WHAT?" everyone gasped.

"A thousand and five hundred years?" asked Gawain, as if I had squeezed all the air out of his lungs (though I know that is biologically impossible, thanks to dad's lectures on men's misconceptions of the human body).

"And sixty-one," I supplied.

"I need a calculator!" shrieked Colette.

"Cool!" squealed Francesca excitedly. "I'm gonna tell Jenny!"

"NO!" Christopher practically pounced on her. "Franny, you _must _promise not to tell anyone about this."

"But why?" she pouted. "It's nothing to be ashamed of," she pointed out.

"_Because_," said Christopher, obviously trying very hard to think of a good reason. "We'll be charged with messing up the course of history and I'll be the one thrown into jail because I'm the only adult here."

Francesca burst into tears, and threw her arms around Christopher's neck. "I don't want you to go to jail!" she wailed, sobbing noisily.

"Silly, I won't get thrown into jail unless you tell anyone," he said, patting her back. "So don't tell anyone, alright?"

Franny shook her head furiously, and I could only grin at Chris. He was a living Einstein.

"Alright, time to go a-bed, Franny," I announced. "It's ten thirty and we have school tomorrow."

"What about them?" asked Colette, stuffing the last of her anchovies pizza into her mouth. "Arm naurt geefin up mauh wooarm."

"What did she say?" asked Lancelot, thoroughly puzzled.

" 'I'm not giving up my room'"," I translated for her. "Same for me."

"There's a spare room up there with a bunk bed," said Christopher, giving Franny a piggy ride. "One can share a room with me, and the rest can sleep here."

"I know where the spare blankets are," said Colette, getting up to her feet. "You'd want to shower before you sleep though, you guys don't look that clean."

I agreed. They had smears of dried mud on their clothes and their faces were a bit grey with dust. I wondered why I never noticed until now. Mum would kill us if she were here.

"How long would they be staying though?" I asked, hands on hips. "I mean, we can't let them stay forever or until some divine being decides to send them back to where they belong."

"I know," said Christopher. "But for the time being we have to let them stay. They have no passports, no jobs, nothing. We can't let them out on the streets just yet."

"I don't mean I want them out of this house," I rolled my eyes. "I mean, how can we explain why they're here?"

"Well I already told dad they're from the theatre, we'll just expand on that," said Christopher smartly.

"Like?" I challenged him.

"Like they're on a supposed exchange trip funded by their local theatre in some exotic country, but they were tricked and robbed, stranded in Aussie with nowhere to go," answered Chris smoothly. Damn his incredibly quick brain.

"From where exactly?" asked Colette. "It'd better be some place nobody knows."

"How about Macedonia?" I suggested.

"I've heard about it," retorted Colette.

"It'll do," confirmed Chris. "So guys, you're a group of Macedonian stage actors tricked by your local theatre into an exchange trip with the Darlinghurst Theatre Group. After landing, you were driven to the theatre, and while you were changing for a supposed dress rehearsal, they stole your luggage and escaped. So you're staying with us until we get you sorted out."

"Actors?" asked Galahad skeptically.

"Yeah, and remember your undercover names," said Colette. "Arthur, Lance, Dan, Gary, Gavin and Tim. Okay?"

"This sounds like a spy movie," I grinned.

They nodded dumbly, trying to digest all the information we had just made up. I yawned stretched my arms.

"I really need to hit the sack, I have three meetings tomorrow plus a lunchtime speech to make," I said. "Goodnight guys, great meeting you."

"And you, Lady Faye," said Arthur politely.

"Geez, am I a lady now?" I laughed. "No titles like that Arthur, you'll scare people out of their heads!"

"Goodnight then, Faye," said Arthur.

There was a chorus of goodnights as I took Francesca's hand and walked slowly up the stairs. My little sister was atypically quiet as she took the stairs one step at a time.

"Franny?" I probed, squeezing her hand. "What's the matter?"

"Are they _really_ from the past?" she asked quietly.

"I'm afraid so," I said.

"Why?"

I pushed open Franny's yellow door, and helped her change into her Barbie nightdress. I tucked her into bed like mum does every night, and kissed her cheek.

"I don't know, Franny," I answered as I dimmed her nightlight. I smiled and patted her head. "But it must be for a good reason."

"Even though the oven exploded?" asked Franny, sleep already heavy on her eyelids.

I laughed softly. "Every cloud has a silver lining, Franny."

"Good night, Faye," she murmured, eyes shut already.

"Night, Franny," I said and quietly shut the door.

----------------------------

Alright! Introductions finally done! We're gonna have some action next chapter!

And yes, I've made the knights younger than they are in the movies. No fun messing with a bunch of nearly-thirty-year-olds right?

**Alison**: Now you've got your explanation :) I've considered putting Bors and a few other knights in this, but then I thought it would get too complicated, especially with Bors so loud lol. And about the languages, I actually did write out a part where they confront each other about their use of language. But again, it would get too complicated, and this is meant to be a simple, light-hearted humorous story. I hope you still enjoy this story with these imperfections! Thanks for your suggestions :)

An update within a week, I hope you guys are happy! Thanks for the reviews, I'm glad you guys find this funny!

I'll try to update asap, but again, no guarantees because my exams are coming in June and I have to study. Anyways, I look forward to reading your reviews!


	4. A Pool WHAT?

Chapter 4: A Pool WHAT?

"I'm like sooo sleepy," complained Vicky, stretching her arms over her head.

"Yeah, you say that 24/7," teased Bryan from the driver's seat.

"I am," insisted Vicky, pouting. "I never get enough sleep."

"I wonder why," said Jesse suggestively, grinning slyly.

Kimberly hit him on the head with her clip-file. "Jesse! What exactly do you mean by that?"

"Nothing, mum," he replied mischievously.

We laughed, and I shook my head. "You're helpless, Jesse."

Bryan was driving the entire Annual Summer Carnival Committee home although everyone in the Committee -except me, I'm sixteen- has driving licenses, but he was the only one who had a car, a sporty convertible. It was still sunny as if it were three in the afternoon when we left school, but it was already near six, thanks to our very independent views on various issues.

As my house loomed closer, I started on my daily reminders. "Bryan, I want a revised plan of the field by tomorrow afternoon, _correctly_ labeled, if you please."

"Yes, miss President," he replied smartly.

"Vicky, arrange a meeting with the Drama Club tomorrow after school, we need to know their plans," I continued.

"Alright," she replied with a yawn, inspecting her manicured nails.

"Kim, we need to decide on which foods to sell, so make a list of that and another of caterers."

"No problemo," she said.

"And Jesse, you just behave yourself," I said playfully as Bryan stopped his car outside my house. "See ya tomorrow, guys!"

"Hey, do I smell a barbeque?" asked Kim, sniffing the air as I got off the car.

"Smells like it," I answered. "Maybe Chris has some friends over."

"Chris is here?" she asked, her face lighting up.

Ah ha. I'd always suspected something between Kim and Chris. I said smoothly, "Yeah, he's back for the holiday."

"Hey, do I see Barbie and Co.?" asked Vicky suspiciously, narrowing her eyes.

I whipped around, and indeed, Barbie and Co. were approaching in all their leggy and midriff-baring glory.

"What are_ you_ doing here?" I asked Stacey none too nicely, one of Colette's platinum blonde cheerleader friends.

"We're here for the pool party, that's what," she replied in more or less the same tone, flicking her iron straight hair over her shoulder.

"The pool WHAT?" I gawked at her, utterly confused.

She placed a hand over her glossy lips. "Oh. Don't tell me you haven't even been invited to a party at _your_ own house."

"Hey, can I come too?" asked Kimberly eagerly, already clutching her bag.

"Wait a second," I said promptly, stopping them with a raised hand. Slinging my backpack on my shoulder, I sprinted across the yard, flung open the side-door, while screaming at the top of my lungs, "COLETTE!"

I met the sight before me with a standstill, then an angry sort of howl. Scowling, I stomped over to where Colette was laughing with a bunch of girls, while people milled about me, drinking punch and parading with grilled hotdogs. There were shrieks of laughter from the pool, which was crowded with bikini-clad girls and half-naked guys. Then there was a burst of music- Kylie Minogue- from the house, sending half of the crowd into a flurry of dances.

Our backyard isn't particularly big, but neither is it small enough to be blamed for the number of people bumping into me. When a sixth person decided to knock me off my course, I snapped.

"Open your bloody eyes and keep them that way, won't you?" I barked, without even bothering to look at him.

"My most profound apologies, miss-"

Before I could turn around to the vaguely familiar voice, Colette had spotted me and had pounced on me.

"You're finally home, Faye!" she squealed, bouncing up and down. "C'mon, meet my friends from-"

"No, I _don't_ want to meet them," I snapped, pulling her aside. "What I want to know, is what the heck is going on."

"No need to yell," replied Colette, as per usual when I snap at her. "It's just a pool party."

"Just a pool party? A pool party in the middle of the week?" I felt like yelling, but managed to keep my voice down.

Colette shrugged. "Well, when you have to celebrate, you have to celebrate!"

"And pray, tell me, what is the cause of celebration?" I asked mockingly.

"The guys got into the DTG!" answered my sister happily, clapping her hands together.

"What?" I asked. "What guys?"

"The guys!"

"Who?"

Colette rolled her eyes. "_The_ guys?" she cocked her head to one side, as if challenging me.

I blinked. _The_ guys? Who the heck-

"Oh!" I slapped myself on my forehead as everything came crashing down on me. "_The_ guys! I totally forgot!"

"How could you forget?" Colette threw her hands heavenwards exasperatedly.

"Well, if _I_ refused to let you in the toilet till five minutes to eight, you would've forgotten too," I shot back defensively.

"Is it a crime to look nice?" retorted Colette.

"I'm not replying to that," I said abruptly. "Wait a second, do you mean that half of Darlinghurst knows about the guys already?"

"Yeah," said Colette matter-of-factly. "They _did_ get into the DTG after all."

"But how? I mean, people have to go through at least ten auditions to get into the Theatre Group," I said musingly.

"Have you forgotten that we have a dear brother?"

I nodded with an "oh". Christopher was once the president of the Darlinghurst Theatre Group, but since he had to leave for his studies, he is now an Honourable Senior Actor. Needless to say, he has connections.

"Okay, this is insane," I declared, clutching my head. "They haven't even been here for 24 hours and they're already in the DTG, and they've made a few dozens friends. Wow."

"Lettie!"

"Hey, Stacey!" my sister jumped away from me, welcoming her batch of friends with hugs. "Make yourselves right at home."

Midge, another unbearable cheerleader, asked, "And just where are those hotties?"

I shot Colette a dark look, but she didn't see me. Instead, she said all eagerly, "Over there…"

My eyes followed them as they trotted across the lawn, giggly and whispering. They stopped in front of the grill where a few people had crowded around, and Colette tapped on the shoulder of a tall guy. He turned around, and grinned disarmingly at the girls, making them fluster.

I frowned and looked at him- why did he look so familiar?

"Hey!"

I yelped and jumped, only to find Kim laughing at me.

"Have you found Chris yet?" I asked her.

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm just poppin' to the washroom."

"I'm going up," I murmured, quickly making my way indoors.

I moodily turned down the stereo by a few decibels as I passed by, then took the stairs three steps at a time, suddenly feeling very tired. I growled. Couldn't they just leave me alone?

"Stupid pool parties," I grumbled as I slammed my door shut, screaming when I looked up and saw someone sitting on my couch.

"Dagonet!" I shrieked, my hands flying to my racing heart. "You scared me."

"Apologies, Faye," he said with a polite smile. "I was looking for a quiet place to read."

"Yeah, my room's the furthest from the pool," I smiled back, tossing my bag on my bed. "Do you know where Franny is?"

"She's gone on a 'play date'," he replied, putting a bookmark neatly onto the page he was reading. "Christopher said she will return by nine o'clock."

I sighed and flopped face-down onto my bed. "I'm so tired," I groaned into my pillow.

Just then, somebody had found the stereo and turned up the volume tenfold.

"Fantastic," I muttered, earning a chuckle from Dagonet.

"Good books you have here," he commented, and I lifted my head from my pillow.

"Yeah, I like philosophy," I said, grinning. "Pythagoras' my hero."

"Pythagoras was a great man," Dagonet agreed.

"It's good to have someone think the same way," I replied.

"I'll leave you to your rest now, then, you look rather worn out," he said, standing up. It was then I noticed that he had changed into "modern" clothes- a meant-to-be oversized T-shirt that was fit on him, and faded jeans.

"You look nice, Dagonet," I grinned as he opened the door.

"Thank you," he replied. "Shall I bring you some food?" he added gallantly.

"I'm fine, thanks," I said. "I'll be down in a few minutes."

And down in a few minutes, I was. I hadn't changed out of my uniform, I'd just slipped on a pair of flip-flops and tied up my hair. It was getting so hot.

The party was in full swing when I got downstairs. Somebody had found an extension line for the stereo, and it was blaring random disco songs right into the backyard. I wouldn't be surprised if the police came and arrested them for the incredible noise they were making.

"Faye!" cried Chris from the kitchen when he saw me, kicking the fridge shut. "I didn't know you were home."

"Of course I'm home, you moron, it's seven," I said rather sourly. I eyed the cans he was carrying. "What's that- alcohol!"

"Just some beer," he said, hugging the cans protectively.

"_Just_ beer?" I said accusingly. "Do you have any idea how many under-eighteens there are here!"

"Aw, chill, Faye, we have Coke for the juveniles," replied Chris, moving out of the kitchen warily. "Fresh orange juice, if you're against Coke."

"I'm not against Coke, I'm just against serving alcohol in a party which is not under adult supervision!" I said, taking a step towards him. "Now, get those cans back in the fridge-"

"Save the beer!" shouted Christopher, cutting me off as he ran from the kitchen and into the kitchen.

"Come back here, you mutated Bambi!" I screeched, taking off after him, again painfully aware of the fact that I was far from a runner. "Christopher Isidore Parkhurst!"

"The beer!" yelled some individuals as they heard Christopher's shouting, then swiftly formed a six-foot wall before me, while my brother got away without a scrap.

"What the heck!" I screamed at them. "Out of my way, you idiots!"

"Aw, c'mon, Faye, it's just beer!" one of the guys, whom I recognized as one of Chris's friend called along the lines of James (or Peter or John, whatever), said pleadingly.

"Stop 'just a beer'-ing me!" I screeched, trying to run around their wall but failed miserably. "Ugh! You male species disgust me!"

"Not all, I hope," someone said, draping an arm over my shoulder.

I turned around to snap at the person, but my fell simply fell open limply.

He grinned, and said, "You really look like Audrey Hepburn."

My lower jaw simply slacked further, and he clarified. "The goldfish."

"LANCELOT!" I screeched, jumping at him. "Oh my God! What happened to you!"

"Lancelot?" another guy burst out laughing. "Is that your full name or something?"

"It is, in fact," winked Lancelot, neatly peeling me off him. "But Lance will do."

"Lancelo- I mean, Lance," I caught myself quickly, then started pulling him away from the other people. "What the heck happened to you?"

"You must mean my appearance?"

I rolled my eyes and said, "No, I meant the hole in your tricuspid valve. DUH, of course your appearance!"

"Did I detect sarcasm?" he asked with an arched eyebrow.

"No, you didn't," I replied as sarcastically as I could muster. "Alright, now tell me."

"Well, after you went to school, Christopher took us on a tour of your city in his -what do you call it?- yes, his convertible. Then he took us 'shopping' and a 'hair salon'."

"I'm SO making Chris take me wherever you got your haircut next time I need one! You look great, Lance," I gushed, reaching up to ruffle his silky curls, which were trimmed with a modern edge to it. "And your goatee! It's gone!"

"Yes, it was quite a sad occasion, that," he lamented, rubbing his clean chin. "Do you think Colette likes it?"

"Yes, I believe she does," I smirked. "You like her, huh?"

"Is that uncommon?" he asked.

"Hardly," I replied airily. "Now, where are the others-" I broke off with a shriek.

"Hey, Faye, how's it going?"

"G-Gawa- Gala- Dammit, what's your name again?"

"Gavin?"

"Oh my gosh! You look fabulous!" I said excitedly. "Seriously, you should've cut off your hair _ages_ ago!"

Gawain had his locks chopped off, and now his blonde hair was short and spiky. His beard was close to the skin but still scruffy, which looked totally hot. As if to demonstrate the point, a flock of girls appeared by his side, latching themselves onto his arm.

"Come on! We're playing Truth or Dare!" said one breathily, throwing her hair over her shoulder. Geez, girls really like to do that, huh?

"What's Truth or Dare?" asked Gawain, scratching his beard.

"It's fun!" "It's a really fun game-" "You don't know what that is?"

"It's a party game," I explained, cutting in the bombarding of useless answers. "One player starts the game by asking another player, 'Truth or dare?'. If the queried player answers, 'Truth,' then the questioning player asks a question, usually embarrassing, of the queried player; otherwise, if the queried player answers, 'Dare,' then the questioning player asks the queried to do something, also usually embarrassing."

"Why embarrassing?" asked Lancelot, almost confused.

"'Cause it's fun," answered Colette, materializing beside Lancelot. "Wanna play?"

"Why not?" grinned Lancelot at my sister. "What about you, Faye?"

I immediately backed away, putting my hands defensively in front of me. "Oh no, I'm just going upstairs for a-"

"Ah ha! Here you are, Faye!" exclaimed Kim, grabbing me by the arms and pulling me towards a circle of people sitting on the grass. "Don't you think of going _anywhere_."

"Let me go!" I protested, trying to shake off Kimberly, which was not easy considering the fact that she was four inches taller than me. "I don't_ want_ to play!"

She dumped me on the grass unceremoniously. "Stop whining, my dear, it's fun."

"No, it's not!" I snapped, getting up again, but a pair of hands closed over my shoulders and pushed me down onto the ground. "Ow! Who the heck!" I turned around and was once again thrown to open-mouth-shock mode.

"Galaha- I mean, Gary?" I gawked at the guy next to me.

"Hey, Faye," he said with a grin, running a hand through his trimmed hair. "Had a g'day at school?"

"Why are you all Aussie slang?" I asked him.

"Chris taught us," he said, nodding to my brother who sat on the other side of the circle. "How d'ya like my hair?"

"Love it," I replied, grinning. "You shaved your beard as well?"

"Yeah, the hairdresser said I'm too young for beards," he said with a shrug.

"'Kay, is everyone ready?" yelled Chris after a moment or two.

"YEAH!" everyone shouted.

"Everyone knows the rules?"

"YEAH!"

"'Kay, then let the game begin!"

----------------------------

I do have a good reason for not liking Truth or Dare. _Especially_ with the people at the party.

I had fortunately stayed out of trouble, but others were not so lucky. So far, a girl had a beetle stuck up her nose for fifteen seconds, a guy had been thrown face-down into the pool, Chris had recited the lines of Romeo within three inches of his best friend's face (emotions, tender touches, all in the package), and now Stacey was doing the Limbo in a bikini with all the guys whistling and cheering.

Exactly, ew.

After Stacey finished her stunt, the bottle was spun again. I anxiously watched it slow down, biting my nails nervously.

"Scared?"

I jumped, and glared at Galahad, who was smirking.

"Yeah, at least I'm brave enough to admit it," I muttered, pinning my sight to the bottle again as- it- slo-wed- and- stopped… pointing at Galahad!

"Gary!" yelled girls and boys alike, clapping. "Gary!"

Galahad stood up unsteadily, and I caught his foot, which was going up as he lost his balance and planted it firmly on the ground again. Only then did I notice the three empty cans at his feet.

"Shit, you've been drinking?" I hissed at him as he straightened.

"Why not? It's as sweet nectar," he answered, then he grinned at everyone and said loudly. "Okay, I'm ready."

"Truth or dare?" asked Colette, lounging in Lancelot's lap.

Galahad seemed to think very hard, then said, "Truth."

"Oooh, the first Truth of the evening!" yelled Kim, which was answered by a string of applaud and cheering.

"Any questions?" asked Midge, inching ever closer to Gawain, who didn't seem to mind at all.

"Your first kiss!" Someone called out.

"Yeah! Tell us about it!" Peter (or James or John) seconded the idea.

"We want details," added Stacey slyly.

Galahad laughed at the "ooohs" of the crowd, then his shy self appeared again. He absent-mindedly scratched his head, and fiddled with his belt.

"Well, I was thirteen," he started, which was met by naughty comments. "And I was in love with a girl called Greta."

"Crappy name," commented a cheerleader called Louie.

"Speak for yourself," I shot back, defending this Greta.

"Whoa, let Gary finish!" commanded Chris.

Galahad looked slightly embarrassed as he continued. "She was fifteen and she worked at the tavern-"

"She was older than you?" gasped a senior, chortling.

"What's a tavern?" asked Colette.

"A tavern is where you drink, every fort has one," said Lancelot.

"Fort?" asked some random personnel, reflecting the lot's confusion. "What do you mean, man?"

"Well she worked at the fort at Badon Hill, when I first got there," continued Galahad, seemingly lost in his memories. "I had my first battle and was feeling quite down-"

"What battle?" asked Midge, perplexed.

"Against the Woads, we were ambushed and we lost some men-"

"Gary," I said warningly, tugging on his jeans. "You know you're talking nonsense-"

"I'm not," he protested, glaring at me fiercely. "We lost ten good men to the bloody Woads, they were no more than fifteen-"

There was a wave of murmurs and a voice called out, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Don't you know?" said Galahad, his voice rising. "Every Sarmatian boy over the age of ten has to serve Rome for fifteen years in Britain."

"Galahad!" I hissed quietly, but he did not hear me. Gawain and Lancelot were looking quite concerned by now, and I caught sight of Arthur looking as much some way off.

There was a current of laughter. "And you're Sarmatian?" asked a guy haughtily.

"I thought you were Macedonian," spoke up Kimberly, a frown on her brow.

"No, we were never Macedonian, it is a cover up," declared Galahad, and some gasped. "We are from the-"

Desperate, I pulled him down hard, promptly leant over and stopped him from talking in the only way I could think of at that moment.

I kissed him.

On the lips.

When I pulled away a few seconds later, there was a huge uproar of laughter and shouts.

"Wow, I never knew you were hot for Gary, Faye!" shouted Chris cheekily, and my cheeks burst into flames.

"Come on," I grumbled, pulling Galahad to his feet, who was obviously stunned to speechlessness.

I flung open the bathroom door and pushed him in, while Dagonet passed by with a questioning face. I ignored him and shut the door behind me, finding myself inches from Galahad's grinning, sober face.

"That was uncalled for," he commented, curling an arm around my waist.

"Get offa me," I muttered darkly, then walked him over to the tub and dumped him in it. I grabbed the shower and turned it on full blast.

"Ahhhhh!" screamed Galahad as icy cold water shot at his face. "Get that thing away from me, Faye! Faye!"

When I was convinced that he was totally sober, I turned off the shower and shouted at him.

"If you don't watch what you're saying, I'll tie you to a bathtub filled with water and goldfish and leave you there for a week!" I threw down the shower and flung the door open to find a legion of people running away.

"Lover's qua-rrel!" Chris sang out on his escape.

"Shut up or I'll tie you to a tree and shoot darts at you!" I snapped back, then I turned around at poked a very wet and guilty Galahad in his chest. "You! Go upstairs and change. I don't want to see you again this evening."

With a nod, he humbly trudged up the stairs. I stared after him till he disappeared into Chris's bedroom, and sighed.

Then it hit me- I kissed him.

And I've never been kissed before.

I've given my first kiss to a guy who I'd only know for twenty four hours! From the year 445!

I screamed hard, and suddenly a small group had gathered around me.

John (or Peter or James) slung an arm around me, and said while shaking his head, "There's no use crying over spilt milk. Go up there, apologize, make out, and-"

"Shut up," I shoved him away, but Colette caught me.

"C'mon guys, the game's not over yet!" she said happily, leading the way back to the backyard. "Back to your places!"

To my luck I was deposited in between Midge and Louie, who sneered at me and tossed their hair simultaneously. I nearly gagged.

"Alright, there goes the bottle!"

I watched in a trance as the bottle spun, and in horror as it stopped, the arrow taped to its neck pointing right at… the person opposite to me.

I looked up into a pair of dark eyes.

It was Tristan.

He very obviously wanted to hide behind his hair again, but considering the fact that it was now all short and spiky (not as spiky as Gawain's though), he was failing in his task. I noticed that his beard was removed as well, making his tattoo stand out.

About half of the girls swooned when Tristan stood up noiselessly, standing with his hands in his pockets, looking bored.

"Truth or dare?" asked Louie, her voice high and flirty.

"Dare," he answered, so softly that I could only just catch it.

"Since Faye is so eager," announced Colette with a triumphant wink in my direction. "Kiss the girl!"

I quickly got up and was about to run, but five people had launched themselves on me and pulled me back. "No running away!"

"I don't feel well," I said shakily, while five pairs of hands pushed me towards Tristan's still form. "I seriously feel like barfing!"

"What a nasty thing to say in front of your to-be-kisser!" teased Christopher mercilessly. "C'mon Faye, the girls would kill to be you!"

"Yeah," chorused the females in the backyard with a touch of envy.

I turned around and tired to run against my captors, stuttering, "No, no, no, please, I need a doctor _right now-_"

"There you go!"

With a yelp, I had fallen against Tristan, whose hands steadied me as I straightened. In my full height, I was still at least six inches shorter than him, and I felt myself cowering in fear under his intense, unwavering gaze of complete self-control-

Geez, there goes my brain.

Somebody had started singing a very warped version of Kiss the Girl, and I found myself totally limp in his arms. Cheesy, I know, but I was scared out of my head. I mean, kissing two guys within ten minutes? I couldn't take THAT. I really couldn't.

"Look, I can't do this!" I shrieked, but was at once pushed against Tristan again.

"Aw, c'mon, it's just one kiss!" someone shouted impatiently.

"On the count of three, or we'll lock you in a closet!" threatened Colette, grinning to a collective shout of "YEAH!"

"Three!"

I stared at him pleadingly, willing him to say something, or do something. Except kissing me. But he simply stared at me, his eyes seemingly empty.

"Two!"

I felt his hands tilting me forward, and I resisted, twisting away. He began to lean forward, looming closer-

"One!"

I got another close up of the tattoos. Okay, I'd just stare at them then-

"KISSSSS!"

Just as I felt the warmth of his breath on my lips and my mind came screeching to a halt, a cold voice broke through the buzzing atmosphere.

"What on earth is going on?"

----------------------------

Un-edited, un-reread.

IN A HURRY! I hope you guys enjoyed that ;


	5. The Chili Therapy

Chapter 5: The Chili Therapy

Shock.

It had filled up every atom of my body, and paralyzed every cell.

Right, so that was more like freeze, but anyways.

I could only stand there, all my being concentrated on breathing in and out since my lungs felt squashed as if two dairy cows were sitting on me, while my brain screamed at me, "Somebody saw you! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!", and my eyes were nailed to my own reflection in Tristan's. Talk about multi-tasking.

Then, as if making up for the zone-out time, my muscles snapped back into motion twenty times faster than normal. With a shriek I frantically scrambled backwards, putting as much distance as I could manage between me and Tristan, before falling onto the grass like a spoon of cookie dough. A spoon of very gooey cookie dough.

"What on earth is going on, I asked?"

Slowly, I lifted my head to the voice. The lights on the patio blinded me for a second, then, my vision swimming back into focus, I found myself staring up at our neighbour Mrs. O'Hare.

I didn't know how this is possible, and I still don't know. But Mrs. O'Hare, who is small and withered, is strangely one of the most imposing figures alive.

Especially now, when she was in her favourite yellow polka dot apron, with her hands on her hips, her back as straight as a board, scrutinizing me through her glasses which was perched grandma style on her sharp nose. And the white light shining from behind her looked like rays of light from heaven.

In my daze, I heard Christopher's voice blare out behind me merrily. "Mrs. O'Hare! What's cookin'?"

"Don't sweet talk me, young man," snapped Mrs. O'Hare. "What is this noise you're making?"

"It's just a pool party, Mrs. O'Hare-"

"_Just_ a noisy, rowdy mess of a party, eh? How grandly you young people talk nowadays!"

Mrs. O'Hare just found herself a worshipper. I was about to crawl to her and kiss her feet when she glared down at me.

"And you, young lady! What do you mean by acting like a common whore, going around kissing strangers?"

Okay, I changed my mind. Even if I _did_ go around kissing strangers, that doesn't make me a prostitute! And I didn't even go around kissing strangers! I felt like yelling at her that I had just given away my first kiss away that fifteen minutes earlier. Geez.

There were some snobbish snickers, coming from the cheerleaders, no doubt. Embarrassed, I opened my mouth to protest, but Mrs. O'Hare had more to say.

"And what is that?" she strode past me and stooped to pick up one of Galahad's empty cans. "Alcohol? You know, I'm in prime position to dial 000 right now-"

Stacey chose then to barge in. "Whoa, chill, Mrs. Polka Dots-"

"_Mrs. O'Hare_, if you please!" sniffed the old woman dignifiedly. "And you lot better break up this little gathering of yours before I phone your father, Mr. Parkhurst."

There was a collective gasp of shock. "What?"

"We're not going!" proclaimed the cheerleaders, already loosening their hair bands and shoelaces to tie themselves to the knights, who were looking on in confused amusement.

"Down with dictatorship!" yelled some of Chris' actor friends dramatically, and more joined the chanting.

Mrs. O'Hare narrowed her eyes at them, her cheek muscles twitching ominously.

I squirmed uneasily. Having known Mrs. O'Hare for a few years, I definitely recognized the signs of danger.

I think Christopher did too, since he was doing this kind of funny panic dance, trying to shut his stupid friends up. But all they did was shout louder.

"Um, guys-" I started nervously, but was cut off by a small rocket barging into the backyard.

"MRS. O'HARE! Look! I baked cookies with Jenny today!" bellowed Francesca as she flung herself at Mrs. O'Hare, who didn't even budge when the little bugger landed on her. See why she's so imposing?

"Oh, hello dear," said Mrs. O'Hare absently, seeming rather bewildered by my little sister's spectacular entrance. "How nice. Cookies."

Francesca then noticed our existence, and asked excitedly, "Is there a party? Cuz I can share my cookies! There's chocolate chip, peanut butter, banana and-"

Mrs. O'Hare took her by the hand and shook her head. "No, dear, the party is over."

Francesca pouted. "Why?"

The stereo then screamed out Evanescence's Going Under, and Mrs. O'Hare said and patted Franny's hand, while giving us the evil eye. "Because, they are making too much noise."

Then the music stopped. There was yet another unanimous gasp.

"She's a witch!" shrieked Midge, leaping at Tristan and hid behind him. I nearly gagged at the look on her face.

"Damn! I told you the extension will kill the stereo!" screeched Colette, scrambling out of Lancelot's lap. "I'll kill you personally, Pete-"

"What? It's not my fault!" replied Pete, holding up his hands in protest. Ah, so his name was Pete. Oh well, Peter and Pete, it's all the same.

"It's probably your stupid CD, Sam-"

"No, it's_ your_ stupid Coke-"

"COKE!"

"Dear Lord, don't tell me you spilled Coke on my stereo!"

Another voice joined the debate. "What on earth- Mrs. O'Hare?"

"DADDDDY!"

Silence fell like a big blanket onto the backyard. Until Franny broke the silence two seconds later.

"DADDDDY! I baked cookies!" she climbed onto dad being the koala she was, though he was wearing a very nice tuxedo, and stuffed the paper bag into his face. "SEEEE?"

"No, honey, you're shoving the bag in my face," he replied with a chuckle. "Okay, now I see. Beautiful cookies, well done."

Franny, pleased with dad's answer, proceeded her narration. "And they're having a PAAARTY, but they have to go now because Mrs. O'Hare says they're too LOUD. But can they stay? 'Cuz I have a lot of cookies and I want to share."

"A party?" asked dad, narrowing his eyes at me. But my attention wasn't on him, I was looking at the figure next to him.

All the other people were doing the same thing, perhaps, because a moment later somebody said uncertainly, "Mrs.- Parkhurst?"

My jaw dropped. I rubbed my tired eyes and stared harder at the woman in the black cocktail dress.

Colette was equally dazed. "Mum?" she asked disbelievingly.

The woman laughed, a pleasant sound, and said in a low voice. "No."

"Who the heck are you?" I finally found my voice, but it was squeaky.

The woman smiled, her voice as smooth as honey. "I'm Zora."

----------------------------

"Do you like her?"

It was about eleven, the party people had left and we had finally tidied up the garden and thrown out the trash. The guys had retired to their rooms and were taking turns to shower, and I had tucked Franny into bed an hour ago. We were idling in the kitchen, each with something to do. I was finishing a tub of strawberry yogurt, Colette was unloading the dishwasher and Christopher was putting the plates back to their cupboards.

"What?" asked Christopher, taking Franny's Winnie the Pooh plate from Colette, who wasn't looking so pleased to be down there drying dishes.

Dad shifted and took a sip of his beer. "I was asking if you like Zora."

"Oh,_ Zora_," I said, licking my spoon. Dad had introduced her as a nurse working in his department, and she missed the last train downtown after their hospital's annual ball, so she would be staying for the night. She was taking a shower and Colette had lent her some clothes.

"What about her?" asked Colette grumpily, shooting me a glare that said, "Come and help me, you moron!"

I smiled at her amiably, and reasoned, "Well, I said 'I'm Faye' to her and she said 'hello'. So I'm not sure."

"I like her shoes," commented Colette randomly. "I saw them in Vogue, they're Lanvin."

"I personally take no interest in her shoes," chuckled dad, looking way too cheerful. "Say, how do you like her as a person you just met five minutes ago?"

"She looks like a nice person," said Christopher, then he grinned devilishly. "Nice figure, that's for sure-"

"Christopher! We don't need to know what you think of her body, thank you very much," I said, but I was smiling.

"Yes, she has a physical advantage, that is apparent," replied dad, to my surprise.

"Ew. Men," Colette wrinkled her nose.

"Where's she sleeping tonight anyways?" I asked, dumping the empty tub into the bin, then tossed the fork into the sink. "I'm not giving up my room."

"Me neither," said Colette quickly.

Christopher shook his head as well. "And the guys have the guestroom too. Maybe they can camp out in the guest hall-"

"No, no, it's alright, she can stay in my room," dad cut in.

I stared at him. "In _your_ room?" I echoed.

"Yes, what's wrong?" asked dad almost innocently.

"Well, she's a member of the opposite sex, if you haven't noticed," said Colette, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, I have noticed," answered dad, taking another gulp of his beer. "Is it so wrong?"

Christopher arched an eyebrow. "Er, how about yes, dad?"

"Ah," dad winced, as if his beer had suddenly turned sour. "Well then, you wouldn't be happy to hear what I have to say."

"What exactly do you have to say?" I asked a tad warily, washing my hands under the tap.

"Well, you see, I've known Zora for some time, and we've spent a good deal of time together," he said, smiling. Then he cleared his throat. "And, you see, our relationship has somehow evolved from one between employer and employee to something- a bit more than friends. And, well- you understand what I mean?"

We blinked at him, frozen in shock.

"Damnit dad, are you telling us you're having an affair?" whined Christopher, shakily running his fingers through his hair.

"Well, you can put it that way," replied dad calmly with a nod. "Yes."

"You're cheating on mum?" squeaked Colette, dropping a plate. Luckily it was plastic.

Dad had the grace to look slightly uncomfortable. "You see, kids, your mum and I are not what we used to be. She's always away when I'm home and I'm always away and she's home. I don't think I love her any more."

"And you love _her_?" I asked, no, snapped, jerking a thumb upwards.

Dad looked determined when he answered, "I think I do."

I gaped at him, and shook my head furious. "Oh. My. Gosh. No, you can't be doing this to mum."

"I know it's a surprise to you-"

"A SURPRISE? You tell me you're having an affair and you say it's a SURPRISE!" yelled Colette, flinging the drying cloth into the sink.

"Dad, you're not even supposed to tell us that you're having an affair!" groaned Christopher. "You're supposed to keep it a damn _secret_!"

Dad blinked, looking genuinely surprised. "Really?"

I shrieked, exasperated. "Dad, you're all_ wrong_! You can't do anything right other than removing a knotted appendix!"

He looked slightly offended at my exclamation, but I couldn't care less. "Kids, I know, it never sits well at first-"

I exploded at his words. "_At first_? It will never 'sit well' with me! I can't believe you're one of those shallow, immature, irresponsible bastards who dump their beautiful, faithful wives for walking chopsticks no more than twenty!"

"Chopsticks?" repeated dad, puzzled.

"Yes, stupid chopsticks complete with lipstick, high heels and all," I spat back, disgusted. "I can't believe you, dad, I just can't."

Meanwhile, Colette strode over to the fridge, took out a couple of eggs, and threw them right at dad's face.

"Colette!" he yelled, ducking just in time. He straightened and caught the third egg right in the forehead. "Are you mad!"

"ME? Mad? Are you crazy? _You're_ mad!" she screamed, throwing more eggs. "I. HATE. YOU!"

Each word was accompanied by a flying egg, and I could only look on, trying not to laugh.

Christopher growled. "Now you did it dad!"

But when I thought of mum, the half-smile died on my lips. Anger stirred inside me, and I said slowly to my dad who was using the counter as a shield to escape the wrath of Colette and her flying eggs. "You're an idiot, dad."

Colette had run out of eggs, and she ran to the cupboard and pulled out some forks.

"Dotti!" Christopher yelped and stopped her from letting loose a fork at dad. "Violence is not the solution to any problem, no matter how screwed it is!"

"I'll kill him!" screeched Colette, tears starting to run down her cheeks. "You smelly, cheating excuse of a doctor!"

"Colette," said dad sternly. "That's enough."

We must have been really loud (duh), because a moment later Arthur and Lancelot appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and the guest hall.

"We heard some noises- Colette? Are you alright?" Arthur asked all worriedly.

Colette dropped her forks, pinned dad with a look as pointy as a knife, and pushed past the guys. Lancelot followed, and a beat later there was a muffled shout of "Leave me alone!", then a bang of a door.

Arthur looked from the dripping egg yolk, dad, me and Christopher, then back at Lancelot who had returned.

Dad's face was blank when he wiped some egg white from his face with the sleeve of his white shirt, and said nonchalantly, "It's late, you kids leave that to me."

"Gladly," I said coldly, without looking at my dad.

Arthur and Lancelot stayed to help, though, playing the helpful guests. I was trudging up the stairs with Christopher at my side when Mr McLaughlin's terrier started barking.

"Great, no sleep tonight," said Chris heavily.

I jumped when a thundering voice screamed out, "Shut up you stupid dog! If you can't handle an empty water dish you might as well go and die 'cuz there are worse things than that like having a dad who is a _forking cheater_!"

The terrier stopped barking, surprisingly, when Colette finished her rant. I looked at Christopher, who looked at me.

"Great, now the whole neighbourhood knows," I sighed when we reached my room.

Christopher shrugged, trying to look as if he didn't care. "Oh well. 'Night, Faye."

"'Night," I said.

I shut the door behind me and sighed again, leaning against the cool wood.

"How can he do this to mum?" I whispered to my plastic Pythagoras bust. "How can he do this to _us_?"

I began changing into my pajamas, musing glumly. I couldn't tell Franny, she'd be brokenhearted. But how could we hide it from her?

What about mum? She deserved to know, but who should tell her? I couldn't be the one telling her, I'd break down. And she'd be devastated.

Well, probably not. She was frighteningly strong. She would probably chase dad around the neighbourhood with an umbrella.

I smiled weakly at the thought. She would no doubt kick the crap out of Zora as well, she has a black belt in karate. She is_ that_ good, no joke.

In fact, she is good in everything she sets her mind on. She wanted to learn yoga, and now she's one of the best in Sydney. She wanted to learn to cook, and she can cook better than any chef in a seven-star restaurant. She wanted to play tennis, she is practically a female Agassi. She wanted to overcome her fear of spiders, she crawled into a tank of a thousand poisonous spiders and came out as spider lover.

I mean, she is a great mum. A perfect mum. A perfect woman, damnit.

Dad didn't deserve her at all.

Too tired to even care about my greasy hair, I snuggled into my covers, my head full of nasty words I could yell at my dad. And Zora as well. That bitc- I mean, witch.

----------------------------

I woke up in the middle of the night, and promptly crawled out of bed, feeling downright miserable. My digital clock read 3:17 a.m., and my sleep-clouded mind decided it was time for an iced coffee.

I felt my way down the stairs, since it was pitch black, and all the way to the kitchen. I was glad that it was egg-yolk-free, or my feet would've fallen victim to the sticky, icky stuff.

Pulling open the fridge door, I nearly cried in relief when a dozen cans of Mr. Brown's ice coffee greeted me in a bright yellow light. I grabbed one and opened it, letting the divine ice cold liquid race down my throat.

Finishing it in one go, I sighed and leaned on the door, flexing my wrist half-mindedly. I stared moodily at the bright interior of the fridge, my eyes landing on a box of red chili peppers.

"Ah, heaven," I murmured, took out two of them and started chewing on one.

Okay, I confess, I can't take chilly things. Colette can, however, and she actually snacks on chili.

But I couldn't care less. It was three in the morning, remember? I was miserable, remember? I just needed something to take out my sadness on, and well, eating chili might be an effective way.

"Upset?"

I shrieked and my empty can went spiraling onto the floor with a loud clang, my heart going to my throat. I whirled around to vaguely see Tristan standing at the doorway leading to the guest hall, leaning on the wall, hands crossed in front of his chest.

"You scared me," I croaked, the chili taking its toll on my voice.

"I heard your sister yelling," he said, ignoring my unattractive croaking.

"Yeah," I shrugged. "I bet everyone within fifty miles radius heard that."

He nodded. "So your father's unfaithful."

It was more of a statement than a question, so I didn't even bother replying. I took another bite of the pepper, and felt tears springing up to my eyes because it was so spicy.

"Geez, I never knew, thanks," I said sarcastically, my tongue now burning like fire.

"What's that?" he nodded to my chili peppers.

"Chili," I replied. "Good for the angry, 'cuz it's so hot that it takes the anger out of you."

He didn't respond, and I chewed thoughtfully on the chili. It was getting so spicy that lips felt swollen, and my nose started to get runny.

"About earlier," I suddenly said, startling myself.

I felt Tristan's eyes on me, but he didn't say anything. Damnit, did chili peppers made you say your thoughts aloud as well?

"Er, I hope you weren't, um, insulted," I stammered, munching even quicker. "It's just a stupid game." I couldn't stop the words coming out of my mouth. Geez, chili paralyzes your mouth muscles as well.

"I know," he said bluntly, and suddenly my face became unbearably hot.

"Your face is red," he said, and I felt my cheeks heating up further.

"It's the chili," I proclaimed, shutting the fridge so he couldn't see me blush. Not that he could've told blush from chili effects though.

All in a sudden, the spiciness became excruciating. It was so hot that I opened my mouth and half expected fire to gush out, but luckily I was wrong. Tears and gooey substances were streaming down my face as I stumbled blindly to the sink, turning on the tap and stuck my face under it.

"Ahhh," I moaned through the water. "I'm not eating chili again."

"So the chili worked," I heard Tristan say.

"Shut up," I grumbled, turning off the tap. I threw my other pepper in the direction of the guest hall. "Try it. I dare you."

Then, realizing what I just said, the underlying gas pipes under my cheek turned up the heat again. I officially pronounce that my cheeks could fry pancakes.

I threw up my hands in frustration. "Grrr. Never mind. It's stupid. Eat it, feed it to Mr. McLaughlin's deranged terrier, stick it up your nostril, it's your choice."

I was moving as quickly as I could out of the kitchen when I heard Tristan say softly, scorn clinging to his words. "So it didn't work, eh?"

----------------------------

My mum's gonna kill me if I don't get off the computer… I hope you enjoyed the chapter! A thousand thanks for the incredible reviews!


	6. Why AIM is a Bad Idea…

Chapter 6: Why AIM is a Bad Idea… for Knights

"Do I _have_ to do this?" I asked- no, scratch that- begged my PE teacher, Mr. Stapleton.

"Yes," he said flatly, thoroughly annoyed by my whining. "Or I'll have to flunk you."

"Meanie," I muttered under my breath, and grabbed a bat from the ground. "Okay, what's this game called again?"

"Softball," replied Mr. Stapleton through gritted teeth. I could see him taking half the marks off already.

"Um, what am I supposed to do?" I asked no one in particular.

"Just hit the ball I throw you, okay?" said Joshua impatiently, the athletic and drama star of the school, who was tossing the ball from hand to hand.

"Okay, okay," I snapped, standing in front of another guy who had something like a helmet on. "Hey, can I get one of those?" I poked his protective gear.

"No, you're _batting_," he said with a snort.

"Don't snort at me, you moron," I retorted.

"Faye!"

I raised my hands in surrender. "I'm ready Mr. Stapleton!" Then I swung the bat loosely in my hands. "Come on, Joshua, we don't have all day."

He rolled his eyes. "Look who's talking."

And suddenly the ball just flew out of his palm and landed in a thud in the gloves of the guy behind me before I could blink.

"Hey! You didn't say you're throwing the ball!" I protested, hands on hips.

My classmates had a good laugh over this, while Mr. Stapleton scribbled furiously in his scorebook. "Carry on," he said, ignoring my complaint.

"I'm throwing the ball now," called out Joshua teasingly.

And thump. My reflexes were once again too slow.

"Okay, this is unfair," I declared. "These two fellows know how to play this _ball thing_, but I don't!"

"You would know if you paid attention in class," pointed out Mr. Stapleton.

"I did! The ball just never listens to me!" I claimed.

"Yeah, right, you're always drawing stupid plans for the carnival when everyone's practising," said Joshua loudly.

I narrowed my eyes crossly. "Why you little prick-"

"I didn't hear that, okay?" cut in Mr. Stapleton firmly, scratching his balding head. "One last time, Faye."

Joshua smirked smugly, and I mouthed to him, "Watch your butt."

"Ooh, I'm scared," he mouthed back.

I clutched the bat really tight and trained my eyes on the ball. I watched it as it soared across the air, as if in slow motion, and I raised my bat, drawing my arm back, and-

"YO!" I yelled in triumph as the ball went off with a loud clap off my bat, and watched proudly as it rocketed away, landing on-

Joshua's forehead. Hard.

"Oh my God!" I shrieked, dropping my bat as he fell back, knocked out cold. "I killed him! Someone call an ambulance!"

There were yelps and screams as our class flocked around him, with Mr. Stapleton fighting to reach the unconscious Joshua.

"Geez, calm down," said the guy behind me, taking off his helmet. "It's not like a shot like that can kill."

"Hey! I actually hit the ball, thank you very much!" I said dignifiedly.

"Great shot, Faye!" shouted out some random guy from my class, whose name I could not recall.

"Um, thanks?" I said uncertainly. Then I went off to join the crowd around Joshua, who had woken with a big, pretty bruise square on his forehead.

"Hey, you okay?" I asked him somewhat guiltily as he struggled to get on his feet with the help of Mr. Stapleton.

"Ow," he replied, touching his forehead and winced. "My head, it hurts."

"Poor Joshua," mourned one of his admirers.

"If you want an icepack, I can get you one," I offered helpfully.

"Faye, you take Joshua to the sick bay, we have an exam to finish here," said Mr. Stapleton, handing the injured guy over to me.

"Um, okay," I said as I awkwardly clutched Joshua's arm. "And oh- did I pass?" I asked Mr. Stapleton anxiously.

He gave me this weird expression, then half-smiled and nodded.

----------------------------

Joshua whined all the way to the sick bay, and I very ungraciously snapped at him to shut up.

He snapped right back, "How can I shut up? The carnival's only two weeks away and now I have this enormous bruise on my forehead!"

"I thought you said the carnival's stupid," I said tonelessly.

"No, I said the plans are stupid," Joshua corrected me.

"It's the same thing! How can there be a carnival without a plan?" I asked, exasperated.

"I'm not going to answer that, but I am the lead role in the drama, you know?" he said pointedly.

"What?" I gasped. "But the drama's the highlight of the day!"

"Exactly," he said. "Am I supposed to go upstage with this lump on my head?"

"Well, it can't take two weeks to heal," I pointed out.

"It can. And the problem is, my character's a sexy, hot spy. How is the president's daughter supposed to fall in love with a spy with the Himalayas on his forehead?" he asked sarcastically.

I snorted, earning a glare from him. "The Himalayas?"

"Well, metaphorically speaking, yes," he said, nursing his wound. "You should've told me you were aiming for my head instead of my butt, I would've defended better."

I laughed out loud and turned to scrutinize his bump. It was starting to turn an ugly purple, and it was definitely going to swell. "You know, it doesn't look that bad, actually," I said airily.

"Ha, thanks a lot," he replied bitingly, but he was smiling. Then he asked, "Your brother's Christopher, right?"

"Yeah, he's back for the holidays," I replied. Geez, Chris was famous

Joshua stopped in his tracks, looking very excited. "Really? Man, that's cool! Listen, our director just left yesterday because his grandma or grandaunt is really sick, so we need someone to direct us. Do you think he'll help us?"

"I'll ask him if you want me to," I said.

"Thanks, I appreciate that," he grinned and started walking again.

"Even though I hit you on the head?" I asked with a grin of my own.

He grimaced. "You know, I hate to say this, but that was a good shot."

We stopped outside the sick bay. I opened the door and pushed him in.

"Watch out next time, then, sucker," I joked and shut the door.

----------------------------

The Summer Carnival Committee Room (a.k.a. the Room) was empty when I arrived at lunchtime. I turned on the air-con and flopped down on the bouncy couch, just lying there, when Bryan came barging in.

"Wow, a dead corpse sprawled on the Room's couch, it'll make a headline," he joked, pushing the door shut. Bryan was the assistant editor for the school magazine, _Hear, Hear_. Lame name, if you asked me.

"A dead corpse? Are there living corpses?" I replied with a smirk, sitting up to make room for his messenger bag. "_That'd_ be an interesting story."

"Actually, I have another story in mind," he said as he turned on the computer. "ASC President knocks out King of Baseball."

"It was softball," I amended him. "And that's the biggest pun on earth."

"Exactly," he winked and unwrapped his sandwich. "That's what catches the eye of readers."

I snorted, and took out my baguette from my bag. "Oh, I need to get on AIM."

I moved to the swiveling computer chair and clicked on the little yellow man. I took a bite of my baguette and logged on, tapping my fingers on the table as I waited for it to load.

A box immediately jumped up when I logged in, and I eyed it curiously.

**pythagorassuccessor**: _-christopherthegreat invites you to a conversation: **agree**/decline-_

**christopherthegreat**: hey faye! Why r u on?

**pythagorassuccessor**: it's lunch, smartypants.

**iluvmyhair**: hello;

**pythagorassuccessor**: who the heck are u?

**swordexcalibur**: I cannot find the apostrophe.

**pythagorassuccessor**?

**westlifefan007**: hello faye!

**pythgorassuccessor**: CHRISTOPHER! DON'T TELL ME YOU LET THE MEDIEVAL DUDES GET AIM!

**swordexcalibur**: What are… I cannot find the quotation marks either.

**pythagorassuccessor**: Um, are you Arthur?

**iluvmyhair**: No.

**pythagorassuccessor**: No, hair weirdo. I was talking to Excalibur.

**swordexcalibur**: Yes, I am Arthur. How are you, Faye… I cannot find the question mark.

**pythagorassuccessor**: Um… it's next to shift on the right.

**swordexcalibur**: Oh, I found it. How are you/

**pythagorassuccessor**: I'm fine, thank you. And you?

**swordexcalibur**: Why does… I cannot find the apostrophe, but no matter… why does the question mark not show/

**pythagorassuccessor**: You have to press shift at the same time. and the apostrophe's next to enter. U gotta press shift too.

**swordexcalibur**: Oh, I see now. Thank you.

**pythagorassuccessor**: Christopher, care to explain?

**christopherthegreat**: wow, faye, never knew u were in luv with Johnny Depp

**pythagorassuccessor**: GET OFF MY COMPUTER!

**westlifefan007**: whos Johnny depp?

**christopherthegreat**: a 40-yr-old married guy with a weird face and moustache-

**pythagorassuccessor**: CHRISTOPHER! I'M WARRNING U!

**christopherthegreat**: another folder? Christ, faye, you're as bad as dotti.

**pythagorassuccessor**: -_christopherthegreat blocked-_

Who are you, westlifefan?

**westlifefan007**: I'm Galahad.

**pythagorassuccessor**: u're a westlife fan? since when?

**westlifefan007**: we listened to some songs 2day.

**iluvmyhair**: can you guess who I am?

**pythagorassuccessor**: um… dagonet?

**iluvmyhair**: Dag doesn't have any hair.

**pythagorassuccessor**: Oh, right.

**iluvmyhair**: who am I?

**pythagorassuccessor**: Gawain.

**whoatemypizza**:I'm here since Tristan's decided to be stoic online too.

**pythagorassuccessor**: Even TRISTAN has AIM?

**whoatemypizza**: his screename's timtimtimtim.

**pythagorassuccessor**: ...

**iluvmyhair**: who am I?

**pythagorassuccessor**: Lancelot.

**iluvmyhair**: YESSS!

**pythagorassuccessor**: I hate your hair.

**iluvmyhair**: no you don't.

**pythagorassuccessor**: you know, your sn sounds soooo arrogant. no one will add you to their friends list.

**iluvmyhair**: who says so? I have sixty-seven so far-

**pythagorassuccessor**: 67! Who are you, Johnny Depp?

**iluvmyhair**: I'm far from 40.

**pythagorassuccessor**: UGH stop insulting Johnny!

**swordexcalibur**: Faye? Christopher is asking you to unblock him.

**pythagorassuccessor**: Tell him to rot in the toilet.

**swordexcalibur**: FIFI! I'M TELLING MUM!

**pythagorassuccessor**: WHAT?

**swordexcalibur**: YOU HAVE THREE FOLDERS FULL OF HALF-NAKED JOHNNY DEPPS!

**pythagorassuccessor**: SO? SUE ME!

**swordexcalibur**: I'M TELLING MUM!

**pythagorassuccessor**: IF YOU DO, I'LL KILL YOU! NO, BETTER STILL, I WON'T TELL YOU WHAT I WAS GOING TO TELL YOU SO YOU WOULD BE BEGGING ME TO TELL YOU WHAT I WAS GOING TO TELL YOU!

**swordexcalibur**: ...

**whoatemypizza**: galahad, track 6 pls.

**iluvmyhair**: did i miss something?

**swordexcalibur**: what were u saying?

**pythagorassuccessor**: I was going to tell you some very good news until I found out you've been messing with my PC and Johnny goodness.

**swordexcalibur**: tell me.

**pythagorassuccessor**: not if ur telling mum. not that i care neways.

**swordexcalibur**: deal. tell me. now.

**pythagorassuccessor**: okay. Sooooo-

"Hey, what's this?"

I must have jumped five foot into the air as I swivelled round to a grinning Kim.

"Were you doing something baaaad?" she asked, trying to peek at the monitor.

"No," I said promptly. "Just AIM."

"With whom?" she asked in an extremely motherly voice.

"Chris," I replied, carefully leaving out the rest of the crowd.

Kim's eyes instantly lit up. "Oh, really? Tell him I say hi."

"Sure," I purred evilly. "He says hi and blows a kiss as well."

To my delight, Kim actually blushed and threw an apple at me. I laughed and caught it, then threw it back to her. Then I turned back to the computer.

Christopher had proceeded to a very long-winded protest of my delay, and I rolled my eyes. Boys.

**pythagorassuccessor**: Stop whining, chris. Kim says hi.

**swordexcalibur**: will u tell me now?

**iluvmyhair**: Dag asks if jamieoliverthesecond is a good screename.

**pythagorassuccessor**: yeah. cool. better than tristan's...

**iluvmyhair**: he says thanks.

**pythagorassuccessor**: tristan?

**iluvmyhair**: no, Dag.

**pythagorassuccessor**: oh.

**swordexcalibur**: okay, I'm telling mum...

**pythagorassuccessor**: patience is a virtue, ya know. you know who Joshua Greenings is?

**swordexcalibur**: greenings... yeah, he was one of the actors in my last school drama. what about him?

**pythagorassuccessor**: the drama club will be staging a drama at the carnival, but they need a director cos theirs went to the other side of the world or sth. do ya want to help out?

**swordexcalibur**: what's the story about?

**pythagorassuccessor**: a theoretically flawless spy and the president's daughter falls in love with him

**swordexcalibur**: for whatever reason?

**pythagorassuccessor**: dunno.

**swordexcalibur**: did u tell him the story's lame?

**pythagorassuccessor**: yup.

**swordexcalibur**: thanks.

**pythagorassuccessor**: so is that a yes or no?

**swordexcalibur**: tell him I'll think about it.

**pythagorassuccessor**: okkkk.

**swordexcalibur**: I'll pick u up after school today.

**pythagorassuccessor**: playing nice?

**swordexcalibur**: ha. I just wanna have a word with greenings.

**pythagorassuccessor**: fine, big brother.

**iluvmyhair**: I really love my hair, you know.

**pythagorassuccessor**: you sound so gay.

**iluvmyhair**: what's gay?

**pythagorassuccessor**: I'll explain later. Jesse's bugging me to get off AIM.

**swordexcalibur**: I'll pick u up after school.

**pythagorassuccessor**: you said that twice. and get off arthur's aim!

**swordexcalibur**: grrrrr.

**pythagorassuccessor**: tell Tristan his screename sucks, ok?

**iluvmyhair**: what's sucks?

**pythagorassuccessor**: um... I'll explain later too. ttyl!

**iluvmyhair**: what's ttyl?

**pythagorassuccessor**: grrrr... nevermind!1!

----------------------------

HI! I'm BACK:D My exams are FINALLY over so you can expect more frequent updates from now on! I hope this chapter wasn't too random, I just thought an AIM convo among the knights would be funny… and in case you are confused about their screenames and such, here is a list:

iluvmyhair: Lancelot… DUH!

westlifefan007: Galahad

swordexcalibur: Arthur

whoatemypizza: Dagonet

timtimtim: Tristan… for the moment, that is!

jamieoliverthesecond: Dagonet for the moment

christopherthegreat: well, self-explanatory…

pythagorassuccessor: Faye

And don't ask me why the Sarmatians would know how to type… let's just say they adjust to 21st century stuff real quickly! More next time anyways… and thanks for the amazing comments!


	7. A Picture's Worth a Thousand Words

Chapter 7: A Picture's Worth a Thousand Words

"Parkhurst!"

I whipped around at the call of my name- okay, my _sur_name- and broke into a grin.

"Greenings," I replied in a similar cocky tone like Joshua's. "The bruise looks better already," I lied frankly. Yeah, I lied frankly. Go figure.

Joshua grimaced. "I'm sure. Are you waiting for someone?"

"Yeah, I'm waiting for Chris, he's supposed to come pick me up after 'having a word' with you," I answered, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind my ears.

Joshua reached the base of the stairs and looked down at me from his six-foot glory. "Christopher called me and told me to meet him at the Club."

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, wanna lift?" he asked, jingling his car keys.

"Don't you have any practice today?" I asked politely.

"With this?" he pointed to his bruise and I laughed.

"Okay, maybe not," I grinned and hopped off my seat on the stone parapet, heaving my messenger bag onto my shoulder.

"I'll carry it for you," he offered and grabbed my bag before I could reply. He flung it across his back as if it was empty. Well, I bet I would carry a ten-ton bag with the same ease if I trained every day after school.

"You don't have to, really," I protested out of manners, following him into the school's parking lot.

He smiled at me and said, "Are you always this polite?"

I smirked. "You're just lucky I'm in a good mood today."

"'Cos you hit me on the head?" he joked, stopping beside a black Porsche.

I pretended to think very hard over his question. "We-ell…"

"No, don't answer that," he changed his mind and opened the door for me with a pompous bow.

"Thank you," I said in a what I hoped to be elegant voice and slid in.

"You don't have to thank me," he said and shut the door. A moment later, he was settling into the driver's seat. "Just help me convince Chris to direct. Or better still, buy me a drink at the Club." He winked and started the engine.

"Oh, alright," I snorted and buckled up.

----------------------------

The Darlinghurst Recreation Club is the hub of activity for the youngsters of the neighbourhood. And sometimes their parents as well, though they prefer to stay away. We have been members of the club for as long as I remember, and I've always loved it for its awesome café and library. It has great sporting facilities, of course, but I tend to shy away from those. Remember the softball incident? I mean, geez, that was only a tiny part of my rich history with sports games.

It is only a twenty-minute drive from our school, and though it was only four when we got there, the parking lot was nearly full.

"I can hear people swimming from here," I commented as we made our way to the club.

"You mean you hear people screaming, don't you?" smirked Joshua. He was still carrying my bag like a true gentleman.

"Well, those two activities are indistinguishable, I'm afraid," I nodded gravely.

He chuckled and held the glass door open for me when we reached the main house. I waved to Rebecca at the reception and people called out greetings to Joshua.

"Obviously, you're a popular guy," I stated as we took the stairs to the club café.

"I can't help it, really," he replied with his nose in the air.

I shook my head and stifled a giggle. "I wonder why I never see you around in the club."

"Because you stick to the air-conditioned areas?" he teased.

I made to kick him but he dodged, raising his hands in surrender. "Enough damage for a day, huh?" I asked him in mock superiority.

"Yes, your majesty," he replied in a serious tone.

I rolled my eyes with a twisted smile and scanned the café for Christopher. Spotting him in the corner of the big room, I grabbed Joshua and pulled him along with me.

"Chris!" I cried when I reached him. I pushed Joshua in front of me and said, "This is Joshua Greenings. You remember him, don't you?"

"Wow, you've grown a lot," joked Christopher, gesturing for us to sit on the large couch.

Joshua grinned and said, "I was still a kid when you met me."

I sat down opposite to Chris and Joshua sat down next to me. "Are the guys here?" I asked my brother.

"Yeah, they're swimming, I think," he replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

I gaped at him. "Are you kidding me?"

"Who?" asked Joshua.

"You're so nosy," I told him, grinning. "I'll leave you alone to your drama thing. Just sort it out, or I'll kill you for screwing up my carnival."

"Yes, sister dearest," said Christopher sweetly, waving goodbye to me.

I rolled my eyes and set off for the pool, which was just outside the main house. It was constantly full of teenagers, with the aims of meeting cute guys or girls and getting a good tan rather than swimming.

Today was no exception. I walked past throngs of bikini-clad girls and bare-chested guys, glancing around for a sign of the guys.

"Look out!"

I only had enough time to turn to the voice when something solid hit my side. I shrieked and was knocked off to the side, and I watched as the pool water loomed closer on my left-

When I was rescued last minute by a pair of very wet arms.

"Faye!" said Galahad happily as he set me upright.

"Geez!" I gasped as I caught my breath. "What the HELL was that?" I yelled to the people around me.

"Sorry, Faye! It was the beach ball!" shouted a familiar voice.

I glared at a sheepish Lancelot, who swam into view with a thoroughly amused Colette in tow.

"That was a close call, wasn't it?" asked Colette sweetly.

I was suddenly aware of the fact that Galahad's very wet and very_ bare_ torso was still against me, and I jumped back, nearly falling back into Lancelot if not for Galahad's reflexes.

"You know what, you two look really cute together," cooed another familiar voice.

I blinked. "Kim? What the heck are you doing here?"

"Swimming?" she grinned and slipped into the water gracefully.

"Hey Faye!"

Two enormous splashes followed, together with piercing screams of laughter when two heads emerged from the bubbling water.

Vicky suddenly appeared, a fruit punch in hand and sunglasses in another. "Ugh! Grow up already!"

"Vicky? Jesse? Bryan?" I gaped at my entire committee. "Why are you _all_ here? Jesse! You should be negotiating with the music company over the rent of the amplifiers instead of being a stupid water bomb!"

"See? I told you she's a fun-sucker," said an incredibly snobbish voice.

"Shut up, Midge," I told her mirthlessly.

"I_ wonder_ why you're always so cold to us," said Stacey, tipping her sunglasses to shoot me a mean look.

"Besides the fact that you're mean, arrogant and completely brainless? No," I bombarded her rapidly, temper flaring.

"You're jealous, that's why," sneered Midge, tossing her perfectly ironed blond hair over her shoulder.

"Jealous?" I scoffed, crossing my arms in front of me. "Tell me, why would I be jealous of a straight-D student?"

Stacey looked at me down from the slope of her nose. "Let's see. I'm gorgeous, you're not. I'm stylish, you're not. I have a boyfriend, you don't. And oh, my daddy loves me, yours don't-"

My face must have darkened by a few shades. "Don't pull my dad into this," I growled, my hands clenching into fists.

Stacey feigned a perfect look of innocence, and covered her mouth deliberately. "Oh, did I strike a nerve?"

"Shut up, Stace," even Colette called out, anger creeping into her voice.

"What? Did I say something _wrong_? No," said Stacey defensively. "Your dad brought a woman home, what do you think that means?"

I would've hit her. I would've hit her in the nose if Galahad had not noticed my stiff posture and seized my wrists, pulling me back into him.

"She's not worth the fight, Faye," he whispered to me, while I trembled in fury.

"Piss off," said Vicky disgustedly without looking up from her magazine. "Drama sucks."

"Leave her alone," added Kim disdainfully. "It's none of your business what happens in her family."

Stacey shrugged her slender shoulders nonchalantly. "Oh well. You're right, it's none of my business. C'mon, Midge."

Galahad did not let me go till the two had disappeared into the locker room, and when he did I sank onto the ground, feeling very foul indeed. Trust me, you wouldn't need anyone to rub the fact that your dad is having an affair in your face when you've been trying your hardest to forget that and go on with your life.

After a few moments' tense silence, Kim pulled herself out of the water and took me by the hand.

"C'mon, I know the perfect remedy for the sad," she said cheerfully.

----------------------------

The perfect remedy of the sad, as Kim put it, worked miraculously. Two cold chocolates with marshmallows and white chocolate sauce later, I was feeling much less murderous. I didn't even mind when Christopher started grumbling about Zora, while we all listened sympathetically.

"I can't believe I said that she's hot right in front of dad," he said with a groan.

We all laughed uproariously, but I could see Kim looking rather resentful from the corner of my eye.

"Does Mrs. Parkhurst know about it yet?" asked Vicky. "Or Francesca?"

I shook my head. "No, I can't tell them. Not yet. Where's Franny by the way?"

"In the playroom with Jenny," said Chris. "Dag- I mean, Dan's looking after them."

"Is Arthur here?"

"Yeah, somewhere… in the library, I think," replied Gawain, sneaking a glance at an unaware Vicky.

There was silence for a moment as we all sipped our drinks.

"You know, your dad doesn't look the type," commented Bryan randomly.

"Have you even _seen_ my dad before?" I asked him.

"Yeah, once," answered Bryan. "Why would I even say that if I haven't?"

I snickered, then Joshua, who had been listening quietly, spoke up, "This sounds like the _Parent Trap_."

"Starring Lindsay Lohan?" asked Colette, who had also been silent. Probably mulling over the thought of dumping her "best friends", namely Midge and Stacey.

"Yeah, I mean, you girls are twins, your dad is here and your mum is there-"

"But we're _fraternal_ twins," I argued. "And our parents aren't even divorced… yet."

"Well, yeah, and you have a big brother and a baby sister for that matter," said Joshua. "But you can do what they did to their stepmother-to-be."

We three siblings exchanged scheming glances. And we grinned.

"Did I just put some very evil plots in your heads?" asked Joshua with a satisfied grin.

"Oh yes, you did," I said in a sing-song voice, reaching over the table to punch him in the arm. "And don't look so pleased."

"Ow, I thought you said you've done enough damage to me in a day," he said in a whiny voice.

"So you did hit him in the head?" asked Colette brightly.

"Yes she did," replied Joshua, sweeping aside his dark brown hair to reveal the purpling bruise. "Impressive, huh?" he winked at me.

I rolled my eyes while the others had their fill of laughter, then Kim, who was sitting next to me, sprang up abruptly.

"It's five thirty!" she screeched, pointing at the enormous clock on the wall.

Half of the table freaked, while I sat licking chocolate off my fingers.

"So?" I asked.

"C'mon!" Kim grabbed me and I was pulled out of the café.

"What's happening?" I managed to croak out as I was dragged upstairs and flung around corners so quickly that I had no idea where I was.

Before I knew it we were bursting into a large room with a pale wooden floor and mirrors all around. I was halted in the middle of the room while the others piled in behind me.

"What's going on?" I demanded, a bit dizzy from our wild dash.

"Tsk, tsk, here you are!" said a high, heavily accented voice accompanied by sharp taps of high heels. "Into pairs now, pairs."

I stared at the heavily made-up woman who clicked her way into the room, her graying hair swept up into a tight bun, and her wire-thin figure enveloped in a fitted singlet and ballet tights, walking nimbly on severe heels, followed by a square-jawed, slender man who was about her age.

"Whoa- whoa- wha- stop!" I spluttered, my hands flying about desperately.

"Yes?" the woman asked, arcing an eyebrow elegantly.

"I need an explanation," I told her plainly, hands on hips.

"Latin dance class," she said simply. "Pair up now."

"L-lat- D-d-dan-?" before I could get the words out, Joshua had taken hold of me and was grinning triumphantly.

I wriggled out of his clutches and fled to the door. "I'm outta here!" I shouted.

And ran smack into a wall.

I stumbled backwards, and discovered that I had not run into a wall.

But a very muscular person's chest.

I looked up.

"Hello… Tim," I said weakly, rubbing my sore nose.

"Oh, you're taking the dance class too?"

I had to bite my lips stifle a moan and smiled feebly at Midge, who was clinging onto Tristan like a koala.

"Yes, she is, along with us," Kim answered for me, looking very snug and comfortable in Christopher's arms.

"I need a partner," announced Stacey, sashaying her way into the room.

"Here," said the woman impatiently, pushing her towards a horrified Bryan.

"What? Are you kidding me?" gaped Bryan.

"I do not kid you," replied the woman strictly. "We start now."

Joshua suddenly appeared next to me and bowed with a cheeky grin. "Shall we dance?"

"NO!" I bellowed, darting to the door again, but Lancelot caught me.

"Let me go!" I whined, struggling to free myself from Lancelot's grip.

"Aw, come on, Faye, it's gonna be fun," he said reassuringly.

"Besides, we're all here with you," added Christopher, grinning madly.

"Arthur and Dan and Gary and Gavin aren't!" I argued. "That's not ALL! I'm not doing Latin Dance damnit!"

Kim then sighed exaggeratedly. "I really hate to do this, Faye, but you've given me no choice."

We all watched as Kim fiddled with her phone, then she smiled evilly and held up the phone for me to see.

I gasped.

"Kimberly Hilary Hastings!" I roared, my face instantly red.

"What's that?" asked Lancelot, peering at the phone.

"Nothing!" I said quickly. "Okay, okay, just- just put that away! I'll dance, I'll do it."

Kim smiled, looking very pleased with herself, and pocketed her phone.

"I'm sorry for the disturbance, Mrs. Bridgeway, but Faye can be a little hard to deal with," Kim said to the dance teacher apologetically.

"Ta, I've met worse," said Mrs. Bridgeway dismissively. "Back to your partners, ladies and gentlemen."

I sulked my way to Joshua, who was grinning. Everybody seemed to be grinning.

"Shall we dance?" he asked gallantly, taking my hand.

"Brrrr," I mumbled incoherently.

Music, slow and seductive, started.

The teacher took her place with her partner and shrilled over the music. "Follow my lead. One, two, three, four…"

----------------------------

"If it was not for your big, lousy mouth, I wouldn't be doing this stupid Latin Dance thing!" I yelled into Galahad's ear. Well, actually, through his earphones, then into his ears.

"Hey, hey, chill out, Faye, I can't see how this is my fault," Galahad countered my hysteric accusation with unusual calmness, fiddling with Chris' iPod.

"You can't! Are you _sure_ you can't?" I jumped onto the couch he was sitting on and took out one of his earphones. "Kim bloody threatened to send our kissing photo to _everyone_!"

"What's a photo?" asked Gawain from the kitchen.

"It's like a picture, but it's captured by an electronic… thing," answered Christopher, swaggering into the TV Room. "They actually took a photo of you two kissing?"

"Yes, your girlfriend's perverted, Chris," I said, slumping in my seat unhappily.

"Well, it was _you_ who decided to kiss me," said Galahad pointedly.

"You were drunk! And you were about to blow your cover!" I shrieked, throwing a cushion at him. "How can you blame this on me?"

"_But I know that for you, to be here without me by your side, it's a love crime_," sang Galahad as if he did not hear me.

"How appropriate," I grumbled, kicking him in the butt. He yelped and faked an injured look. "You're such a butthead."

"Did you call me that on the first day?" asked Arthur, looking up from his book.

"No, I don't think so," I informed him tersely.

"I remember you called Tristan a pig-faced pervert," chuckled Gawain, entering the TV Room with a can of iced coffee in hand.

Tristan, from his solitary seat, looked away from the soccer match on the TV and smirked at me. "I do recall."

"I thought you were harassing my sister! What was I supposed to say?" I put on a high-pitched voice. "'Oh sir! Please, I beg of you, leave my sister be!' Hello! It was an emergency!"

"You know, nobody gets away from insulting Tristan intact," commented Galahad, shooting me a wicked glance.

"Oh really?" I said in a bored voice, turning to Tristan. "And what punishment will you have me suffer, sir?"

Gawain whistled loudly, and even Arthur grinned at me. Galahad nudged me with his foot. "That was stupid, Faye."

I gulped when Tristan's eyes settled on me, his gaze focused and intense. I couldn't help but stare back. I mean, I bet no one else could do anything else when eyes like that were staring at you. And when the owner of those eyes was looking so fine in a unbuttoned white polo, and a pair snug and destroyed jeans. And when there was such an attractive tattoo of two blue stripes on his cheekbone…

Finally, he spoke in that quiet, slightly scratchy voice of his. "I shall let you know when I think of it."

I let out a breath I didn't even realize I'd been holding, and clearing my throat uncomfortably, decided to call it a night.

"I'm tired, goodnight guys," I said, standing up on wobbly feet. I forced a laugh. "Whoa. Latin Dance really saps your energy."

"And you're only learning the basics," pointed out Christopher, taking my seat on the sofa.

"And I've already forgotten all the steps, not that I care anyways," I shrugged carelessly.

"You'll make a fool of yourself on stage," said Christopher.

"What stage?" I asked, stopping in my tracks.

"We'll be performing in the Carnival, didn't Kim tell you?" my brother asked, eyes wide.

"I'm gonna kill your girlfriend," I declared, collapsing against a wall.

"She's not my girlfriend," protested Christopher.

"Yeah, right, she's head over heels in love with you," I rolled my eyes. "And you obviously find her attractive."

"Yes, she is attractive," agreed Gawain.

Christopher appeared to muse over this. "Well, her legs are-"

"Okay, guys are disgusting," I made a face. "Please don't discuss this in front of me. And don't forget you have a one-hour drama to deal with, you promised Joshua."

"I think Joshua likes you, Faye," piped up Galahad.

I blushed furiously. "Shut up, I've only _talked_ to him for the first time today. And neither of us are interested."

Then I realized what a stupid conversation we were having. "Okay, I don't even know why I'm discussing my love life, or lack thereof, with a bunch of medieval cowboys at eleven at night."

"We're knights," sniffed Arthur.

"Right, whatever," I waved dismissively. "I'm off to bed."

"'Night Faye," they chorused like nice little boys.

Colette's door was shut when I reached the top, and I could hear her talking with Lancelot. Grinning wickedly, I strutted over to the pink door and knocked sharply.

"Remember to use a condom," I said loudly, then dashed into my room and slammed the door shut just in time when Colette came out of her room and swore at me.

I sniggered and sat down at my desk, ticking a few items off my to-do list for the day. Chewing on my favourite pencil, I pulled out a sheet of lined paper and did a bit of staring at it while my brain whirred and buzzed.

Humming Beethoven's Fate Symphony under my breath, I scrawled untidily on the paper:

_Things to deal with at the moment_

_cheating dad_

_Zora_

_poor, poor mum who will turn into Wolverine when she knows_

_Franny, who still doesn't know_

_Latin Dance_

_Summer Carnival, two weeks away_

I read the list over once. Then I pinned the list to my bulletin board, jabbed the pencil back into its box and turned off the lights.

I snuggled into my covers, staring at the dark ceiling for a moment, then rolled off my bed. I took the list down and decided to add one more item as an afterthought:

_Tristan_

I frowned at the single name, then scribbled behind it:

_in a white polo and snug destroyed jeans_

Satisfied, I pinned it up again and dived into bed, grinning. I had seven things to deal with and straighten out in two weeks' time, I thought. Sighing, I turned to the side and promised myself that I'd my quest start tomorrow.

----------------------------

Blame for the delay in updates! I actually finished this chapter like three days ago, but the document manager refused to work, so I had to wait till today to update (I went to camp, which was waaay fun!). So anyway, I hope you enjoyed this update. More action next time... I hope :) Thanks for the fantastic response guys, nothing pleases me more than to know that I have brought laughter to my readers!


	8. I Have No Idea Huh

Chapter 8: I Have No Idea. Huh.

"My feet… my feet!" I moaned pathetically as I curled up at the very back of our eight-seater, cradling my aching feet. "The bones are crushed. I can feel it. Oh GOD can I _please_ quit?"

"No," said Colette simply as she clambered onto the car, still wearing her heels. "That's why Madame wants us- I mean, _you_, to practice on heels so soon."

"You're not God," I sniffed.

"I think Latin dance's getting really fun," commented Lancelot, sitting next to Colette.

"Yeah, as far as I know, you members of the male species don't need to prance about on two-inch spikes," I snapped, reaching forward to hit his head.

"Hey," he protested, rubbing his head of curls. "That's what makes the female dancers appealing, you know."

I scoffed. "Appealing. I pretty much limped around the room the whole hour and you find that appealing."

Lancelot considered this. "Well, except you."

I would've torn his hair out and left a square bald path on the top of his head if Galahad had not leapt onto the car, blaring out on the top of his lungs _Thriller_, doing a pretty good impersonation of Michael Jackson by the way (don't ask me how, he just did).

"_'Cuz this is Thriller! Thriller night_," he climbed into the backseat and flopped down next to me. "_And no one's gonna save you from the beast's that about to strike-_"

"Namely, the two-inch heels," I interjected, throwing the offensive objects at him.

"You know what," he caught them right in his hands, and said excitedly. "The Club's offered to let me form a band and lend all the stuff to me for free!"

I nearly fell off the sofa, while Colette squealed. Chris had just slid in and asked, "What?"

"This guy here just got an offer from the Club to use their music stuff for free if he forms a band," said Colette animatedly. "And you've only been here for how many days?"

"Five," I said, shaking my head. "You guys are impossible. You've officially replaced the Rocky Mountain elk as the most adaptive animal on the planet."

"Huh?" asked Galahad blankly.

"Okay, maybe you're a bit lacking in knowledge of the 21st century, but considering your use of language, clothes etc., you look like a perfectly normal guy," I told him in an eloquent flow of words. "Born in Macedonia, don't forget."

"Guess what, sis, nobody even cares where they were born as long as they get to talk to them," said Christopher, turning on the engine.

"Are you jealous?" asked Colette sweetly.

"Are you kidding me? No," said Chris quickly.

Lancelot smirked. "I highly doubt you have a hundred something girls waiting for you to get online-"

"Lance!" screeched my sister shrilly.

"Uh-oh, wrong information," I sang, ignoring the dark look from Lancelot. "Okay, can somebody tell me why we're not out of here yet?"

"'Cos Tristan's a bit busy with his girlfriend," answered Chris, leaning back in the driver's seat.

"His _what_? Who?" I spluttered.

"Girlfriend. Midge, duh," said Colette, rolling her eyes. "Who else do you think?"

"It's not a question of 'who else', it's a question of 'does he have a girlfriend at all'," I argued feebly. "Okay, that sounded weird. Scratch that."

"How can you ask that?" chuckled Christopher. "Girls are practically worshipping the ground he walks on."

"Oh," I deadpanned. "Well, tell him to hurry up because my feet really need a massage. I intend to use them tomorrow, you know."

I looked the other way as Galahad stuck his head out of the window and shouted, "Hey! Save the kissing session for another day, it's getting late!"

I nearly gagged at that. "Galahad! Too much information!"

"No, that's called factual description," he countered.

I shut up when Tristan got on and slammed the door shut. I pretended to sleep on the way back home, but it was really quite impossible with Galahad singing along to the Michael Jackson CD. Don't get me wrong, he sang amazingly, but Christopher's accompaniment practically spoiled everything.

Somehow, I seemed to burn more calories just sitting in the car for twenty minutes than limping for one and a half hours. By the time we got home, I was starving.

"My feet!" I started my lamentations again as I touched down rather violently. "I can't walk, I just can't."

"Get your butt out of the way, seriously," grumbled Colette, pushing past me.

I was walking barefooted, but still it hurt like hell. I tried walking tip-toe, it hurt. I tried walking on my heel, it was worse. I tried walking on my sole (go figure), I simply fell down flat on my face.

"Will somebody help me, please?" I called out, still on the ground.

"How about you get up and walk for a start?" teased Christopher as he sauntered past me.

"Revenge's a pain in the backside, Christopher!" I shouted after him, who grinned at me and left the front door open.

I thought I was all alone outside, which explained my weird strangled scream and the shuddering jump like I had been enclosed in an electrical circuit when I was literally plucked off the ground.

"Put me down!" I yelled in Tristan's face, more startled than uncomfortable.

"You asked for help," he replied steadily, without looking at me.

"What? Is there a formula named help equals pick me up Cinderella-style?" I asked his tattoo.

He chose not to answer that, which was wise of him, I guess. I noticed all of a sudden that he was wearing a black polo and destroyed jeans again. Man, he looked good in that combination.

"Actually, you can put me down now," I said awkwardly as we stepped into the light of the house.

He closed the door with his foot but didn't comply, walking right up the stairs.

"W-whoa!" I stuttered, poking his shoulder timidly. "I said put me down, mate!"

At that point, Gawain and Arthur came down the stairs, sending me very curious expressions.

"Shut up guys," I said, feeling a blush surfacing again.

"We didn't say anything," said Arthur smartly, sending me a wink.

"Shut up!" I snapped. "It's not what you think!"

"I bet," said Gawain smoothly.

I groaned and slapped Tristan's shoulder. "See what you did? Now they think there's- there's- _something_ between us!"

"Good thing there is none then," he said calmly.

That shut me up very effectively. He seemed to notice, because he looked down at me and gave me this questioning look.

"I totally agree," I informed him seriously. "Or someone wouldn't be too happy."

"Who?" he asked, slowing down once reaching my room.

I squirmed and he let me go this time. I landed on my feet very, very gently. "Well, you know who," I said vaguely.

He shook his head, and I was glad when Franny bellowed that she had ordered pizza.

"I gotta change," I said quickly and ducked into the safety of my room, not caring about the fact that I slammed the door close right in his face.

Suddenly, my feet didn't seem to ache any more. I fanned myself as I scuttled round my room, frustrated with the prickling heat on my face.

"Damn," I muttered as I pulled out some random clothes to change into. But on the brighter side, I didn't metamorphose into a five foot five tomato this time. Not in front of him anyway.

I must have spaced out, because the next thing I knew Franny was banging on the door, announcing that dinner was served.

"Why aren't we eating in the TV Room?" I asked when I saw everyone seated at the dining table. "And why is the table set so nicely? And where is the pizza?"

"Because Dag cooked dinner!" said Franny excitedly. "And I helped!"

As if demonstrating the point, she ran back to the kitchen.

My eyes bulged. "Dag cooked dinner?"

"Yes, he is an excellent cook," said Arthur with a smile. "Not to mention he has been watching quite a number of Jamie Oliver reruns these few days."

"Oh, I see," I said uncertainly, looking around the table to find that the only seat available was between Tristan and Galahad.

"Why don't you take a seat?" asked Gawain, smiling knowingly.

I glared to him and said dignifiedly. "I was just inspecting the seating arrangement."

"Ah," said Arthur with the same smug look on Gawain's face.

"Oh, shut up already," I muttered and slid into the chair, taking the opportunity to inch away from Tristan as I pulled my chair in.

"You have a tendency to tell people to shut up," declared Arthur gravely, as if diagnosing me with some incurable disease.

"Shut up," I snapped.

"See?" Arthur leant back in his chair, looking very pleased with himself.

I rolled my eyes and huffed as Galahad started to sing some random song again.

"Is that an inside joke or something?" Christopher broke out of his trance to ask me.

"No," I said at the same time Gawain and Arthur said, "Yes."

"Whatever," muttered Christopher and went back to his staring challenge with his plate.

"I'm hungry," said Lancelot glumly, playing with some of his curls.

"Remember the children in Africa are hungrier than you," said Colette without looking up from her magazine.

"Huh?" he said blankly.

"Um, Dag? Excuse me if I sound rude but my mum is sort of protective of her kitchen- are you sure you're okay in there?" I called anxiously.

"Very sure," replied a grinning Dagonet as he emerged, walking around the counter, with a large bowl in hand, Franny tagging along. "It is not difficult to get use to the modern conveniences."

We gasped at the creamy Carbonara Dagonet had whipped up, and the second it hit the table, seven forks started attacking the appetizing spaghetti. Because Tristan, being true to himself, remained stoic even on the dinner table.

Dagonet chuckled. "There are a few more dishes, leave some room for them, okay?"

"You're a genius, Dagonet!" grinned Colette with a stuffed mouth.

"Indeed, I haven't seen Colette eat half of what she just swallowed," I nodded solemnly, taking a bite of the spaghetti and nearly swooned. "This is heavenly!"

"What are we gonna do without you?" asked Christopher in a mock desperate voice.

"Yeah, I mean, when you get back, we'll be back to pizza again," I said, twirling some spaghetti with my fork.

Everyone fell silent. I looked up and blinked, taking in their assorted facial expressions. "What?" I asked.

"You intend to send us back?" asked Galahad, suddenly puppy-eyed and all.

Gawain looked at me dejectedly. "You hate us living here, don't you?"

"Are we that much in the way?" asked Lancelot .

"Whoa! I don't hate you guys or anything," I protested. "But the fact is, you don't _belong_ here. In case you've forgotten, you guys have something else to do in some other century."

"Faye's right," said Tristan quietly.

"See?" I could not meet his eyes, so I just stared at Arthur, who was conveniently sitting right opposite to me.

"She's right, of course," he said sombrely. "But how are we supposed to return to our time?"

"But you can't go yet!" cried Colette, grabbing Lancelot's arm. "You guys have tons to do here!"

"We're not suggesting you go right this moment," spoke up Christopher, being the voice of reason for once. "But some time later, you'll have to go. We can't keep you here forever. When mum comes back, she'll know something's wrong."

I heard someone sniffing, and saw Francesca crying openly. I got out of my seat and hugged my little sister, smoothing her hair.

"Aw, c'mon Franny, it's not like they have to go now," I said soothingly. "Besides, we don't even know how to send them back."

"So, what we do now, is eat!" finished Gawain, comically waving his fork around, earning a giggle from Franny.

"There you go," Dagonet dumped a tangle of spaghetti into her plate, which she devoured. "Don't eat too quickly, or you'll choke yourself."

Lancelot brightened and said. "Okay, so let's just forget about the ordeal for the moment and enjoy the food."

I was about to sit down to do just that when the doorbell rang. I groaned and sprinted to the door, nearly falling back onto the floor in surprise when Dad and Zora walked in.

"Um, hi!" I said squeakily, faking a cheerful smile. I yelled to the kitchen. "Guys! We have com-pa-ny!" I hoped they caught the hint.

"You kids having dinner?" asked dad, taking off his shoes and tucking them neatly into the cabinet.

"Yeah, Dag- I mean Dan cooked us dinner," I answered. "Wanna take a bite?"

"Sure, we haven't had dinner yet, it's been a busy evening," said Zora in her very nice voice, taking off her coat.

"Oookay, maybe you guys freshen up first? We'll set two more seats," I said awkwardly, then fled to the dining room.

"Shit! What the hell is she doing here," grumbled Christopher when I joined them.

"Okay, we need two more chairs," I said.

"I'll help you," offered Galahad, standing up.

"Wait!" Christopher sprang up with an evil glint in his eyes. "Remember what Joshua said?"

"'Shall we dance?'" I replied sarcastically.

"No," Chris rolled his eyes. "Something_ wicked_."

"'You look ravishing in that dress'?"

"He told you that?" asked Galahad suspiciously.

"No!" I threw my hands up exasperatedly. "That's called cynicism, people!"

"What _did_ he say?" asked Colette impatiently.

Christopher grinned slyly. "He said…"

----------------------------

"So, you'd be staying for the night, Zora?" asked Colette casually as we girls (except Franny) loaded the dishwasher afterwards.

"Yes," she replied with a small smile.

I felt like ripping that smile off her face, and I could've sworn Colette thought the same thing. Twins have this sort of connection, you know?

I forced a stiff smile and said lightly, "You missed the train again?"

"Actually, we have a surgery at a hospital nearby tomorrow very early in the morning- the blood had to be flown in from Melbourne- so we thought it would be more convenient to stay here for tonight," replied Zora.

"I see," nodded Colette. "Do you need some pyjamas?"

"Oh yes, please, you and I seem to be the same size," enthused Zora.

"Quite a coincidence, huh?" chuckled Colette humourlessly. "Actually, mum has the same size as us too."

I stared at my sister for saying something that bold, then at Zora. Her smile seemed to harden a bit.

"Hi ladies," dad barged into the kitchen before anyone could speak. "Why don't you girls go for a shower, I'll help Zora."

"Sure," we chorused and smiled amiably. "Good night."

We walked calmly out of the kitchen, but once we were out of earshot, we raced up the stairs. Colette arrived at the top first as usual, me following closely, then we burst into Christopher's room, where everyone seemed to have taken a liking to.

"That's _it_!" exploded Colette. And she proceeded to call Zora something that rhymed with "witch". "We need a plan."

"For what?" asked Lancelot, wrapping his arms around Colette and pulled her down to the crowded carpeted floor.

"Kicking her out of the house," said Colette moodily.

"Or better, out of Oceania," I added, flopping onto Christopher's beanbag chair Gawain was sitting on.

"Or better, out of planet Earth," put in Christopher.

"In short, to get rid of her, right?" clarified Galahad.

"Geez, thanks, professor," I rolled my eyes.

"Just as what Joshua said?" asked Galahad, ignoring my sarcasm.

"I'm not going camping," protested Colette.

"Joshua means doing something_ similar_ to what the twins did in_ the Parent Trap_, genius," I sighed, shaking my head at my intellectually challenged twin.

"Galahad!" the door was thrown open and Franny bounded in wearing her Cinderella nightgown. "I found the DVD!"

"Hey! Thanks kiddo," Galahad caught Francesca the Rocket and gave her a piggy ride.

"What's that?" asked Dagonet over Francesca's delighted squeals as Galahad tossed her in the air.

"_Michael Jackson Live in Burcharest_," read Christopher, craning his neck from his seat on the floor.

"C'mon Franny, let's sing!" shouted Galahad, setting her on the bed. "_Billie Jean's not my lover-_"

"_She's just a girl think that I am the one!_" screamed Franny, dancing and jumping on the bed in a hyperactive manner.

"Do you regret introducing him to music?" I asked Christopher nonchalantly, who had a very curious expression on his face as he watched the two Michael Jackson dummies bounce on his bed, belting out lyrics from Billie Jean.

Chris grinned, then jumped onto his feet. "Ha. You bet."

----------------------------

"I don't think this is a good idea," said a concerned Dagonet a few minutes later.

"Me neither," I agreed. "Mrs. O'Hare would probably come to chew our ears off before the two upstairs even notice the racket we're making down here."

Obviously, Christopher thought that if we were noisy enough, we would "scare away" Zora. Like she was a bird or something. It seemed to me that he just needed an excuse to go wild. I mean, as far as I know, he _hates_ Michael Jackson.

But here they were, playing the MJ concert at full volume, dancing (hideously) and singing (horribly), with the exception of me, Dagonet and –surprise, surprise- Tristan.

"Actually, I think Tristan would snap first," I said thoughtfully, glancing at the said person, who was drinking Coke and reading a cars magazine.

He looked up and smirked at me, and I immediately returned to the summer report I was writing, ignoring the familiar prickling feeling on my face. Darn him.

"C'mon Faye! Let's dance!" Galahad suddenly appeared in front of me and dragged me to my feet.

"Nooo! My feet hurt, remember?" I tried to pull back, clawing on the sofa, but in vain.

"No excuses! MJ is the best ever!" he spun me around and I yelped, trying to put my weight off both of my feet, which meant hopping from one foot to another, which equated to looking like an idiot.

" _'You've been hit back, you've been struck back'_," sang Galahad, doing an impressive moonwalk.

" '_As a smooth criminal!'!_" the rest chorused.

"Huh, right, I'm off to bed," I huffed. "Good luck on your quest to 'scare away' Miss Zora."

"What? You're off?" asked Gawain, looking terribly disappointed. Ha.

"Yes, I'm off," I replied, then turned to a bouncing Franny. "And you should be in bed. It's eleven."

"But it's Saturday tomorrow!" she informed me, bouncing.

"Fine," I shrugged. "I just don't want to see a dozen zombies moping around the kitchen tomorrow."

"You won't, good night," said Colette dismissively.

"And don't forget we have a two-hour dance class tomorrow!" added Lancelot with a wave.

I groaned and looked down at my feet. "Poor things."

"Off now, you're in the way!" exclaimed Gawain, pushing me out of the TV room.

"Fine, fine! You'd better hope the noise doesn't keep me awake," I warned them.

"Good night Faye," called out Arthur impatiently.

I rolled my eyes and left them to their relentless production of noise.

----------------------------

Somehow I did fall asleep. I think I drifted off when they started singing _She's Out of My Life_, which is significantly quieter when compared to MJ's other hits. Thank God.

I must have drunk too many cans of Sunkist, because I woke up to an urge to relieve my bladder. I tumbled out of bed and crawled to the door, my feet feeling way to fragile to walk on.

Groggily, I struggled to my feet and trudged to the bathroom, noting that the house was silent. Ah. Sweetness.

I yawned and rubbed my eyes, trying to keep myself upright. I was still rubbing my eyes when I hit something.

"Oops," I mumbled, my arms flailing out to maintain my balance. "What the- eep! What the_ heck_ do you think you're _doing_?"

"Walking back to my room," replied Tristan, cool and collected as ever.

"But- but why are you, um, half-naked and- and _wet_?" I stammered, trying not to look at his well-toned chest which seemed to be basking in an unearthly glow.

Then I realized that the glow was from the toilet lights.

"I just showered," he replied shortly.

"In the middle of the night?" I demanded, trying to cover up my nervousness by sounding snappish. No, it that wasn't supposed to make sense. But you would do the same thing if you were standing nose-to-chest to a guy called Tristan from the 5th century.

"Galahad, Gawain and Lancelot seem to be very attached to the shower," he drawled lazily.

"Oh," I said.

"Oh," he echoed, mocking me.

I blushed furiously. "Look here, buddy, this is my house, don't you dare go around 'oh'-ing people who live here, 'cos we're being very kind letting you supernatural people stay."

Tristan raised an eyebrow at my speech. "What can we do to repay your hospitality?"

"Quit walking around the house without a shirt on in the middle of the night and scaring the hell out of innocent teenage girls should be enough," I snapped, making to push past him, but he caught my arm. "Let go!"

"Why don't you stop lashing your tongue at me?" he asked.

I gasped, flabbergasted. "Excuse me? Lashing my tongue at you? Since when did I ever _lash my tongue_ at you?"

"Right now," he said.

I felt like slapping myself. Of course he didn't mean me lashing my tongue at him_ literally_. Ew. I felt the one to be intellectually challenged. I wondered how Midge and other cheerleaders could stand to feel this way 24/7.

I cleared my throat and said jerkily, "Well. You would understand if your feet were in such excruciating pain."

He snorted, and I glared at him. He ran a hand through his wet hair, and said scornfully, "That's nothing."

"Oh really?" I asked challengingly.

"I'm a knight," he reminded me, brushing past me.

"Oh, that must be terrible, right?" I said in a mock sympathetic voice.

My mouth glued itself when he stopped in his tracks, his shoulders visibly stiffening. I instinctively stepped back as he advanced on me, his face unreadable. He only halted when he was only an inch away from me, pinning me with his stormy eyes.

"You have no idea," he growled, then, after giving one more look, walked away.

"Geez, looks like someone's in a bad mood," I muttered, trying to shake off the shadowy feeling Tristan gave me, and darted inside the toilet to answer the call of nature.

----------------------------

Looong chapter. I hope you all enjoyed it. Yes, Tristan is in a rather dark mood. I just wanted to keep him character, and to remind you all that they are still the same knights though they are in the 21st century. You shall see more of it later :)

Thank you for the brilliant reviews you guys gave me! They are incredible and they really spur me on! Sorry for the delay in updates. I'm really busy with school, dramas and presentations and all- the final rush before summer. I'll try to update with longer chapters instead of more frequent ones, I hope that's okay with you guys! Till next time, everyone.

P.S. And I sure enjoy writing these midnight rendez-vous between Faye and Tristan ;)


	9. MUM!

Chapter 9: MUM!

"Faye? Faye?"

I was vaguely aware of the fact that someone was poking at my shoulder, and I rolled over with a groan.

"Faye!" a solid weight dropped on my bed, making it creak and jerking me out of my sleep.

"What?" I mumbled, opening my blearing eyes to blinding morning sunlight.

"We're going to McDonald's for breakfast!" Franny's grinning face popped up above mine, while she bounced on my bed. "Are you coming?"

"No," I rasped.

"Why aren't you out of bed yet?" I recognized the voice as Galahad's, and his face appeared above me as well. "Slept well?"

I buried my face in my pillow. "You bet."

"Hey, Franny buddy, looks like we've kept your sister awake all night long!" Galahad said in a triumphant voice, earning a laugh from Franny, who was still bouncing.

I flapped my arms about lazily. "Just leave, _please_."

Just then, someone banged their way into my room. "Faye!"

"What is it, big bro?" I asked my pillow tiredly.

"We have dance class at twelve, so come by the Club by then, okay?" he said way too loudly for my likely. He seemed to be in a good mood.

I wailed. "I don't want to go!"

"You gotta, Madame says we're learning the rest of our dance today," said Colette, who had joined us sometime during the conversation.

"If you don't come you'll tarnish your reputation as the President of the Summer Carnival Committee," said Christopher solemnly.

"Amen," I grumbled. "Okay, I'll be there. Now leave me alone. I need sleep."

"See you later, Faye!" chorused Galahad and Franny.

The door shut with a bang and I sighed. Finally, some peace.

And somehow, I couldn't sleep anymore. With a growl, I stumbled out of bed and proceeded to my morning routine.

Fifteen minutes later I was walking into the kitchen, dressed in my dance clothes- a black tank top and a creased white skirt I didn't bother to iron. I was too lazy to tie up my hair, and for some reason it got really tangled on my way downstairs. Naturally, I was too preoccupied with sorting out my hair to notice another presence in the kitchen.

I jumped and shrieked when the tap was turned on, and I stared at Tristan while he leisurely washed a glass.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him, my tone meaner than I intended it to be.

He spared me a glance, then said, "Washing my glass."

"Why didn't you go with them to McDonald's?" I asked.

"I didn't want to," he answered, turning off the tap.

"Okay, fine," I shrugged and went to the fridge, taking out a can of Sunkist. "So I'll be going to the Club with you?"

"I suppose," he said curtly.

I ignored his scathing tone and opened my OJ. "I'm walking there, if you don't mind."

He shrugged.

"It's a thirty-minute walk," I added, as if to discourage him to go with me.

He smirked humourlessly at me. "I'm a knight."

My temper flared, and I brought my can of Sunkist down onto the counter fiercely.

"Look here, buddy," I snapped, walking right up to him. "I know I was being a total insensitive person last night but that does not give you the licence to mock anyone you like."

"I am not mocking you," he said nonchalantly.

"No, of course you're not," I said sarcastically. "You just look down everyone else because you're oh-so superior to us as a_ knight_ while we're just useless civilians."

"I never said that," he said, still unconcerned.

I stepped back and slapped myself on the forehead with feigned exasperation. "Oh _right_, I nearly forgot, you don't speak at all."

He glared at me, and I smiled pleasantly back at him.

He abruptly turned and walked away. I felt like throwing something at his back as I watched him go, but decided against it. With a huff, I stalked to the fridge to fix myself a decent breakfast.

Five minutes later I was munching on a cold turkey sandwich with a bunch of Carnival files in my other hand. I walked into the TV Room and found my favourite chair by the garden occupied.

He didn't look up to acknowledge my presence, so I returned the favour. I walked to Christopher's favourite chair and flopped down on it, noisily tossing my files and such on the coffee table right in front of me.

He shot me an annoyed look, which I very skillfully ignored. I get plenty of practice thanks to Vicky, who always complains about my habit of throwing stuff around the Committee Room. Chewing on my breakfast, I started working.

Did I ever mention how boring my work could be sometimes? My eyes unconsciously drifted away from the rows and rows of numbers in the account book and settled on Tristan, who was reading silently. He even turned his pages noiselessly. Geez.

I realized that I was always doing checklists of what he was wearing whenever I looked at him. This morning he was wearing an oversized grey tee and wrinkled jeans. He was slouching in his seat, one leg on the chair, holding the book loosely in one hand, while the other rested the arm of the chair. I looked at the book and my eyes widened.

"It's rude to stare."

His voice startled me out of my daze, and I looked up to his face, but his eyes were still trained to the book.

"Who says I've been staring?" I retorted, casually scribbling in the cash book.

"You've staring for the past five minutes," he said coolly, his eyes flicking up to challenge me.

"I- I've been staring at the, um, magpie outside," I replied in my defence.

Tristan smirked at me. "There is no magpie outside."

"How do you know?" I asked defiantly.

"I'm a scout," he replied matter-of-factly.

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, that is your answer to everyone, isn't it?"

He gave a little bow of his head, as though he was signifying the end of the conversation.

But I wasn't about to let go yet.

"Where did you get that book?" I asked loudly.

"Your room," he replied flatly.

I nearly fell off my chair.

"You went into my room without permission?" I shrieked.

"It wasn't locked," he answered without looking at me.

"It's my house, of course it's not locked!" I shrilled. "I trust everyone to _respect_ my privacy!"

"If it upsets you, I shall return this book," he deadpanned, as if he was tired of my words.

In fact, it did not really upset me. His going into my room, I mean. But considering what I had pinned up on my bulletin board…

"Just don't go into my room without my consent again, okay?" I huffed. "I mean, seriously, you don't lock the rooms in your house either right?"

He calmly turned a page. "I don't have a house."

I raised an eyebrow. "You don't?"

"Knight," he said simply.

I slumped in my chair. "Please don't tell me I've offended you _again_."

He stared at me impassively. So impassively that it almost scared me. I mean, okay, I admit it. He scared the crap out of me every time he stared at me. I wouldn't be surprised if he killed someone with his glares on the battle field.

Finally, he broke the gaze and drawled, "I apologize for my behaviour."

I blinked. He was apologizing.

By the way, I have this really weird tendency to apologize when others apologize to me. That was exactly what happened.

"Look, buddy," I sighed. "I'm really sorry for what I said yesterday. Or earlier this morning, whatever. I mean, I had no idea-"

"It's alright," he interrupted tersely.

"No, it's not. I don't mean to snap at you all the time, but that's just the way I work, I snap," I blabbered on. "I mean, I do it to everyone. So it's not just-"

"It's fine," he said, a little louder this time.

"I'm apologizing! Can't you wait till I'm finished?" I snapped.

"No."

I gaped at him. "Why are you so rude?"

"I beg to ask the same," he said flatly.

"Fine, I'm not talking to you any more," I snapped, getting on my feet. "You ugly, smelly, pig-faced pervert!" I threw over my shoulder.

I was storming up the stairs when he grabbed my arm, nearly sending me tumbling down the stairs.

"What are you doing!" I screamed, grabbing onto the railing just in time to save my life. "If you want to murder me just put poison in my food!"

He seemed oblivious to my angry shouts. "When will you start acting your age?"

I scoffed. "Are you suggesting that I'm childish, sir?"

He nodded, and I laughed sarcastically.

"I'm sorry if my maturity or lack thereof annoys you, sir, but seeing that I'm only sixteen, I suppose even my best behaviour would fall below your standards," I snapped, jerking my elbow out of his grasp.

I bounded up the stairs, but somehow he was already standing at the top when I reached it. I threw up my hands, frustrated.

"Why are you people so fond of reminding me that my legs carry me backwards instead of forwards?" I grumbled, shoving my way past him.

"Faye," he said, his tone stiff.

"Oh, you actually _know_ my name? How gratifying," I said lightly, making to close my door but he stuck his foot in. "What do you want? If you want another book, go to the study. My room's out of bounds."

His request was something I did not expect. "You owe me a favour."

I snorted. "For what reason, pray, tell me?"

"For insulting me," he answered.

I couldn't help but burst out laughing. He looked at me curiously.

"I can't believe you remember," I said.

"I do," he said. "And you just insulted me again."

"For calling you an ugly, smelly, pig-faced pervert?" I asked, faking innocence.

Tristan smirked. "Yes, that."

"Okay, how can I help you sir?" I asked, leaning against the wall.

I was hoping I seemed nonchalant (something he was so good at), but inside I was biting my nails off. He wouldn't ask anything outrageous, right? He didn't seem that sort of person.

I glanced up at him. He was so close again. He hadn't shaved yet, and he looked like Wolverine. Yes! _Totally_. They were both gruff and men of few words. Only that Tristan was much taller and leaner. It was funny how he seemed so graceful as well. I mean, he was a guy for heaven's sake. Guys aren't _supposed_ to be graceful. I guess guy ballerinas are, but that's the sissy kind. And Tristan? Sissy? Pah! That is the most ridiculous statement in the whole wide world…

Suddenly he was just staring at me and I was just blinking at him. Did he just say something?

"What?" I asked.

He made his request again.

I blinked. "Are you serious?"

He nodded solemnly.

I considered it. Then said, "Only under one condition."

I stated my term.

He agreed.

"Good," I said happily. "Now go and change, we're leaving in five minutes."

----------------------------

"Right, first things first, what is your budget?" I asked him as we stepped into the mall.

He took out a wallet and showed me the cash. I gasped. "Where did you get all that money?"

"I do odd jobs for Ms. Horsefeld," he replied.

Ms. Horsefeld is our neighbour, a single thirty-something who very much resembled the first part of her surname and thus apparently never got asked out.

"Obviously she's paying you to watch your butt in motion," I mumbled.

I felt Tristan's eyes on me, and I turned to glare at him. I silently prayed that he didn't hear me.

"That is an improbable suggestion," he said, slightly amused.

"Look, just forget I said that okay?" I asked, blushing.

He nodded, and I changed the subject, "So, what does Midge like?"

He shrugged. "I thought you would know."

"True, we're both girls. But all common ground ends there," I declared.

Yes, I was shopping for a birthday present for Midge. If you need smelling salts I shall presently fetch them to revive you from your shock.

"I can see that," said Tristan honestly.

I shot him a peeved look, and he actually raised his arms in surrender. I grinned.

"Come on, I do have some idea where to start," I said, gesturing to him to follow me.

"Good morning, how can I help?" a girl approached us when we stepped into the Cosmetique.

"We're looking for a birthday present," Tristan spoke up to my surprise.

I saw the girl raking her eyes over Tristan appraisingly. "For your girlfriend?" she asked, smiling at me.

"Oh no, I'm not his, um, girlfriend," I chuckled nervously. "I'm helping him with finding something for his girlfriend."

"How nice of you," she smiled. "So do you have any idea what she would like?"

"No," I answered. Besides a lecture in treating others with compassion.

"How about perfume?" she suggested, moving off to the counter. "We've got some new arrivals."

"Perfume is like a scent that women wear," I whispered to Tristan as we followed the girl. "It usually comes with really cute bottles."

He nodded.

"Can you describe your girlfriend's personality to me?" the girl asked Tristan as we reached the counter.

I perked up my ears. To say that I wasn't interested in what Tristan saw in that horrid cheerleader would be the biggest lie in the century.

"Energetic, lively, attractive," he said slowly. I nearly snorted at his last adjective.

I spent the following half an hour smelling what seemed like a hundred different fragrances, till my nose felt uncomfortably numb.

"They all seem the same," I complained. "But I really like Calvin Klein's. But that's just me, of course."

"I think Gucci's Envy Me would suit her," the girl suggested. "What do you think, sir?"

Tristan seemed uncertain how to answer, so I decided to help him out a bit.

"Just imagine how you want her to smell when you two are making out," I said airily, forcing a grin. The girl laughed.

Tristan's lips twitched as he held up the bottle and scrutinized it.

"Well, think. Even the name suits her," I added with a smirk. "Don't you think so?"

Tristan arced an eyebrow at my statement, and I smiled at him innocently.

"I'll have that," he announced quietly, putting down the pink bottle.

"I'll wrap it up for you," said the girl with a smile.

"Do you think we'll have time to grab a quick lunch- shit!" I swore when I saw the time. "It's a quarter to twelve!"

"You go first," said Tristan, unfazed while I panicked.

"You know the way right?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Okay, remember to pay," I said and tore out of the shop.

----------------------------

"I can't run any more," I panted, lagging a few feet behind Tristan, who seemed to be used to running miles without any rest.

I slowed to a walk while Tristan stopped to wait for me. It was two minutes to noon but the Club was still two streets away.

"We're gonna be late," I grumbled as I caught up with Tristan.

He shrugged. "Not without trying to be on time."

He started jogging again, and I groaned. Tristan heard me and without a word, he had scooped me up into his arms again. This time I didn't complain.

----------------------------

"You're late," said Madame calmly as we burst into the dance room ten minutes after class started.

"Sorry," I panted, although it was Tristan who did all the running. "We got a little carried away."

The room quieted at my words, and I rolled my eyes. "Why are you people so suggestive!"

Christopher snickered loudly, and I threw my sneakers at him while Madame wasn't looking. I slipped on my heels and limped over to a grinning Joshua.

"You look hot," he winked at me.

"Shut up," I hit his arm lightly. I was sweating like a horse and probably smelt like one too.

"Where were you?" he asked, taking my hands as the music started.

"Helping Tim with buying Midge a birthday present," I answered.

He playfully made as if he would fall backwards in shock, but I jerked him upright with a stifled laugh.

"Are you kidding me?" he asked.

"No, Mr. Dramatic," I said quietly, stepping to the music.

"And who are you? Miss Nice Guy?" he grinned.

"Shut up."

----------------------------

"So where _were_ you two?" Colette asked me as we got home at five that afternoon.

"I told you, picking out a present for Midge," I said exasperatedly.

"C'mon Faye, don't lie," said Gawain teasingly.

"Why would I lie?" I asked, annoyed.

"Exactly, why?" said Lancelot, faking a thoughtful look.

I groaned. "Are you suggesting that I'm _lying_?"

"Well, you didn't seem too pleased when Tristan and Midge left for the Square just now," said Arthur.

"Um, excuse me, you wouldn't be too pleased either if your feet feel as if they are on fire," I said dryly. "Get off the car, Galahad, will you?"

"I have a feeling that you don't love me anymore," said Galahad glumly as he slid off the car.

I snorted. "I didn't know you were such a touchy-feely kind of person."

Gawain laughed. "Didn't you know that Galahad is the _only _touch-feely kind of person in our group?"

"So you don't love me anymore?" asked Galahad, putting on his puppy eyes act.

"Did I ever say that I loved you?" I asked him back, rolling my eyes.

"_Heartbreak! Uh uh uh uh uh uh uh_," Galahad started singing, dancing his way into the house.

"Okay, so I am a tool for working up his emotions for his songs," I said flatly, following behind.

"He's a real good singer though," laughed Lancelot.

"Hey Galahad, is your band ready yet?" asked Colette.

"GALAHAD I FOUND ANOTHER CD!" screamed Franny from upstairs, waving a CD in her hand.

"There's my favourite girl!" whooped Galahad, dashing up the stairs and immediately swinging into a MJ inspired dance with my little sister.

I shook my head at their hysteric hooting and limped into the kitchen to grab a Sunkist.

"Hi Dagonet," I greeted the great chef who was peeling potatoes. "What's for dinner tonight?"

"Can't tell. Surprise," he winked at me.

"By the way, Tristan's out tonight," I said, perching on a tall stool.

Dagonet looked surprised. "Alone?"

"With his girlfriend," I amended him.

"The terms you use in this century are very peculiar," commented Dagonet.

"Why?" I asked.

"Girl_friend_, boy_friend_. It seems very casual," he said.

I nearly choked on my juice. "Because their relationship _is_ casual."

Dagonet gave me an inquiring look. "How can you tell?"

I flustered, aware of the fact I seemed very disapproving of their relationship. "I mean, they've only been going out for a few days."

"There's something called love at first sight," suggested Dagonet.

I scoffed. "_Please_. I believe in logic and Pythagoras. Besides, Midge is too superficial for a serious relationship."

"You seem to be very experienced in this area," he smiled.

"Hardly, I've never been asked out," I rolled my eyes.

"Really?"

I nodded. "I don't care though. Guys are pigs, if you don't mind me saying that. At least guys in this century."

Dagonet chuckled. "Don't worry, I won't tell."

I grinned and at the same moment the doorbell rang. I hopped off the counter and swaggered into the hall, shouting, "Coming!"

Swinging open the door, my mouth fell open and my can of Sunkist went straight to the floor.

"Hello darling!"

"MUM!"

----------------------------

I'm SO SORRY for the delay! I was about to update a few days ago when my computer** crashed** and I lost EVERYTHING! Including Word, so I couldn't write.

I apologize for this crappy chapter. I'm not really in the mood to write, for some weird reason, though my summer holidays have just started. Anyways, I hope it was alright! And criticize all you want, I really want to know what you think of the direction of this story. Thanks for your brilliant reviews darlings!


	10. Talk About Deja Vu

Chapter 10: Talk about Déjà vu

"Mum!" Three voices chorused, then, "MUM!"

Then I was crushed between my mum and my siblings.

"I- can't- breathe!" I managed to choke out, then kicked Christopher hard in the shin, who stumbled backwards with a yelp.

"You nearly suffocated me, you moron!" I tugged crossly on the beak of his cap so it covered half of his face.

"Hey!" he petted his cap like it was a dog or something.

"I can't believe you're already fighting the minute I got home," laughed mum, closing the door.

"Mummy I missed you!" announced Francesca, clinging to mum's waist.

"Why are you back so early? I thought you weren't coming back till next week," I said, helping her with the luggage.

"You remember who Selina Ward is?" she asked.

Colette nodded hard. "She's an editor at Vogue right?"

Mum grinned. "I knew you'd remember. Well her colleague resigned yesterday because of a dispute, so she has to return immediately to fill her space. We bought our air tickets together, and there's a nonsensical policy that we have to arrive and leave the place at the same time. That's why I'm back."

"That sucks," I commented.

"But I'm happy to be home, I missed you," she grinned prettily, and pecked us all on the cheek. "How's my kitchen? You didn't destroy it, did you?"

"Chris, did you tell?" I asked accusingly.

My brother shot me a glare. "I meant to tell you mum, but I could never reach you."

"And what do you have to tell me?" she asked, instantly unsmiling.

"You see, the oven-"

"Hey Christopher! Kim's IM-ing you!" Gawain's suddenly shouted.

Mum's eyebrows rocketed right up to her hairline. "Who is that?"

"Faye, I can't find the-" Dagonet broke off when he saw mum. He smiled pleasantly and waved, "You must be Mrs. Parkhurst."

"Yes, I am. Who are you and what are you doing in my kitchen?" asked mum, hands on hips. She then gave us all stern looks. "Well?"

We exchanged nervous glances and fidgeted.

"Well, I'd better get back to my potatoes," said Dagonet cheerfully and left us.

"Colette, I can't find the hair gel. You didn't use it all, did you?" came Lancelot's muffled shout.

Mum looked flabbergasted at the seemingly numerous different voices echoing around the house.

As if it was not enough of a shock, Galahad suddenly burst into song- and out of all songs- he sang Prince's _Kiss_.

I hung my head and sighed in defeat as Galahad sang in a squeaky voice, "You don't need to be beautiful to turn me on…"

"I think we have some explanation to do," said Christopher sheepishly at last.

"Indeed," deadpanned mum.

"So, uh, let's get your suitcases upstairs and we'll wait for you down here, okay?" I said jerkily.

"Mummy, I want you to meet Dagonet, he is really really really really nice and he cooks the yummiest spaghetti and-" babbled Francesca excitedly till Christopher calmly cut her off.

"Franny, let's let mummy freshen up first, then you can introduce her to _Dan_ and _Gary_ and everyone else, okay?" he said, hoping she would catch the hint.

"Lovely," I interjected hastily, grabbing two large bags and started hauling them upstairs. "Let's not waste time-"

The doorbell zapped again. Me, Colette and Christopher exchanged extremely frightened looks, while Franny continued to gnaw at mum's ear about Dagonet's baked potatoes.

"C'mon mum, let's go upstairs first, Chris will get the door," I said promptly, grabbing mum by the arm and started pulling her to the stairs.

"Why the rush, darling? I'm really tired," said mum, though allowing me to drag her along. "Christopher, get the door. It's not nice to keep people waiting."

"Oh, it's just some advertising people, I think," he replied casually, shoving the largest suitcase, blocking the door and sat on it. "Go on, I'll take care of whoever it is."

There were a few knocks on the door, and dad's voice came clearly from the other side. "Open the door please kids!"

Mum's face lit up. "It's your father, Chris, open the door."

Christopher pressed a finger to his lip and whispered. "Go upstairs and give him a surprise!"

To our relief, mum nodded and grinned, and was starting to scuttle quickly up the stairs when dad and Zora entered from the backdoor.

"Christopher, why is the front door stuck?" he asked, oblivious to mum's presence. "Why is there a suitcase against it? Remove it this instant."

"Shit," grunted Christopher as he stared at mum.

Since she was standing a step below me, I saw her face really, really clearly. And there was only one emotion on it- fury.

And there was only one adjective that could describe her- dangerous.

Surprisingly, Franny had not uttered a single word. She just kept looking back and forth mum on the stairs, and dad and Zora in the hall.

Dad followed her gaze, and actually froze then swayed on the spot as he stared at mum in complete surprise.

"J-J-Jeanne?" stuttered dad.

Meanwhile, Mum and Zora were having an intense glaring contest.

"Who's she?" they asked at the same time.

"Shit," I swore, banging my head on the wall, then put the bags on the stairs. This was going to take a while.

Dad cleared his throat very uncomfortably and loosened his tie as if he didn't know what else to do. "Jeanne, we need to talk."

"Likewise," replied mum coolly, totally impassive. But I could see her knuckles turning white.

Dad was in serious trouble and he knew it, though he was trying to look brave. Which mean puffing out his chest in a ridiculous manner. Arthur liked to do that too, I had discovered.

"So, uh, shall we-" he gestured to the living room uneasily.

Mum descended the stairs so gracefully that it was almost frightening. We watched in silence as she walked right up to dad and Zora. She folded her hands neatly in front of her chest, glaring at dad.

He should've seen it coming.

Mum didn't have to move a single muscle other than her leg. With a simple curling kick behind his knee, dad was sent sprawling to the ground.

"What do you mean by this?" mum shouted at him, flinging a finger at Zora, who had cowered away after seeing mum's clean karate kick. "Are you (beep) cheating on me?"

"Mum!" I gasped at her use of language.

Franny's face darkened when she heard mum's accusation. "Daddy, are you cheating on mummy?"

"Listen, Jeanne, why don't we sit down and talk-"

"What do you think?" asked mum, her voice dangerously low. She took off her blazer and flung it to the ground, sinking into a menacing karate pose. Or was it Kung Fu?

"Wow, is that your mum?" a voice from above me asked, and I turned and nodded at Arthur, who was leaning on the parapets, looking impressed.

Christopher tried to mediate. "Uh, mum, maybe you need to calm down-"

"Out of the way, Christopher," mum ordered, and he backed down immediately.

"Look, Jeanne, let's be rational," said dad firmly, stepping backwards slowly from mum's wrath.

Mum smiled, a cold, evil smile that I didn't know she was capable of.

"Let's save that for court, honey," she said forebodingly.

Someone whistled behind me, and I turned to see Gawain there as well.

"This would be quite a show," he commented with a nod.

"Come on," I said, and sprinted down the stairs to see mum slowly cornering dad, who was looking more and more frantic. We joined Colette and Christopher by the dinner table, and I had to bite my lips from laughing at dad's face. I wouldn't be surprised if he fell on his knees and begged for mercy.

"Jeanne-"

I couldn't see the first punch, but I definitely heard it. It sounded like an "ooosh", pretty much the sounds you hear from a Kung Fu film.

Then all hell broke loose.

"Where did she punch him?" asked Colette all excitedly.

"In the chest!" exclaimed Christopher. "GO MUM!"

Dad struggled onto his feet, while mum hopped from foot to foot like a real Kung Fu master, shaking her fists.

"C'mon!" she shouted. "Get up, you idiot and fight!"

As if on cue, the heavy beat of Michael Jackson's _Beat It_ blasted through the house.

"Jeanne, what got into you?" asked dad weakly, leaning against the window.

"That is the most interesting question you've ever asked," answered mum, then she struck again, which dad dodged just in time.

He was lucky, the blow went straight through the window and we all "oooh-ed" unanimously. Mum's hand, to our surprise, was still in one piece.

Dad scrambled backwards towards us, and we shrieked and rushed to the other side of the dining room for the sake of our safety, while mum let loose a war cry and dashed raced over to him, apparently preparing to give him a good karate kick.

My eyes bulged in astonishment as dad's hand easily brushed aside mum's attacking leg, and blocked a consecutive swipe of her hand. This continued in a quick succession of attack and defence, which left us completely speechless.

"Oh my God. They know _martial arts_?" asked Christopher, his jaw slack.

"More like _marital_ arts," snorted Colette.

"Arthur, I think we should incorporate some of those tricks into hand-to-hand combat," said Dagonet's from the kitchen while whisking up a white sauce.

"They're doing it better than Bors and Kay," commented Arthur with a small smile.

"I'm guessing their reflexes just got sharper than usual," I reasoned. "There is scientific proof that when one is under urgent circumstances, one's receptors-"

"Hey, where are you going?" Colette very rudely interrupted my analysis, taking after Zora, who was apparently escaping the scene. I rolled my eyes and followed together with Arthur and Gawain.

Zora leapt at the door, which was still barricaded by mum's suitcases. It became obvious that she wasn't going anywhere.

"Yoooooouuuu!" screamed Franny from the mini balcony on the second floor which was right above the front door. "Taaaaaake thisssss!"

Zora screamed as water balloons rained down on her, and I burst into peels of laughter the ridiculous scene.

"Faye!" I looked up and yelped as fuzzy toys fell on me.

"Alright, here's to you for trying to mess up our family!" I yelled and started throwing the fuzzy toys at Zora, who was running around the hall like a trapped, startled cat.

"Geez, I didn't know we had this many stuffed toys," I commented as Lancelot dropped us another batch.

"Stop stop stop!" Zora was still squealing, barely able to open her eyes thanks to the relentless volleys of water balloons.

"Five points for hitting her face!" yelled Colette suddenly.

Five stuffed toys hit the mark, and we cheered, giving each other high-fives, like it was a basketball tournament or something.

"Out of the kitchen!" Dagonet suddenly roared, and we turned to see a panic-stricken dad sprinting out of the kitchen. Mum followed a beat later, hollering at the top of her lungs and wielding a red broomstick.

"Ralphie!" shrieked Zora as dad zoomed by. "Save me!"

"Ralphie, is it?" growled mum, her broom only narrowly missing dad's head. "Come back here!"

"I thought they were tung ku fighting?" Arthur asked Christopher.

"Kung fu, Arthur!" Colette rolled her eyes.

"I told you it's a matter of reflexes," I said smugly.

Dad was running up the stairs, but Galahad, Lancelot and Francesca stood at halfway, each smiling sweetly, casually tossing water balloons from hand to hand.

Dad stopped right in front of them, then turned to find mum hot on his trail.

"Uh-oh," sang Colette, grinning.

"Go guys!" yelled Christopher, and we joined in the hysterical cheering.

"On the count of three!" I shouted, jumping up and down.

"THREE!"

"Can't we please discuss this-"

"No!"

"TWO!"

"Jeanne, this is ridiculo-"

"ONE!"

"WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON!"

Call it déjà vu.

"Mrs. O'Hare!" cried dad in relief.

Galahad shrugged and threw his pink water balloon at dad's face, which exploded and left him a very wet and unhappy face.

Mrs. O'Hare was once again in her favourite polka dot apron, glaring at us sternly.

"What is the meaning of this?" she snapped, waving her hands about like Captain Jack Sparrow, but she was, of course, sober.

I surveyed the hall. It was practically flooding, with burst balloons everywhere, stuffed toys littered on the ground. We shuffled guiltily under Mrs. O'Hare's spectacled glower.

"Ask dad," muttered Chris.

"I didn't quite hear you, Mr. Parkhurst," said Mrs. O'Hare, glaring at my brother.

"I said ask dad," he repeated loudly.

Mrs. O'Hare turned sharply to dad, who was leaning on the railing wearily. "Mr. Parkhurst, care to explain?"

I took advantage of the focus on dad and sneakily threw a crocodile at Zora's side. She yelped.

"Miss Parkhurst!" snapped Mrs. O'Hare, spinning to face me.

"Yes?" I said sweetly.

"Don't make me tell your mother what happened when she returns," she threatened.

"I_ have_ returned," mum spoke up.

"Jeanne!" exclaimed Mrs. O'Hare, breaking into a wide smile and scuttled over to give mum a hug. "I have missed you, my dear!"

To my surprise, mum actually sniffed. "He _cheated_ on me, Betty!"

Mrs. O'Hare patted her comfortingly. "I know, my dear, I know."

"You knew?" mum blinked.

I tugged on Christopher's sleeve, and he grabbed Colette. We quickly snuck to the adjourning drawing room.

The older woman nodded. "So did your children."

"Christopher Faye Colette!" shrieked mum, and we stopped in our tracks, turning around like children caught stealing their mummy's cookies.

"Yes mum?" we chorused, unable to meet her eyes.

"You _knew_?" she asked, her voice squeaky and unbelieving.

We nodded.

"You didn't _tell_ me?"

"Time difference, mum," murmured Christopher.

"Time difference my (beep)!"

"Mum!" I protested against her language.

"You didn't tell me all the times I phoned you?" she shrieked angrily.

"It was hard to tell you," said Colette defensively. "I mean, it's difficult for us too mum!"

"You think we _enjoyed_ keeping it from you?" I asked, my voice hard.

Mum stared at us, almost blankly, like she was lost for words.

Mum was never lost for words.

Dad seemed to notice this uncharacteristic phenomenon.

"Jeanne," said dad softly, touching her arm.

"Get out," she said simply, no hostility or hate in her voice.

"We need to-"

"Get the hell out of here, if you please," she said in the same emotion-deprived voice. "Don't make me ask twice."

There was no arguing with her, and dad should know best. Especially when she had a broom in her hands. With a tight nod, dad moved cautiously around mum and calmly walked down the stairs, took Zora's hand, and walked out of the door. But not without me throwing a giraffe at Zora's back just before the door closed.

"Mummy," said Franny quietly after a moment's silence.

"Yes honey?" she attempted a smile, taking Franny into her arms, while Mrs. O'Hare silently stroke her hair.

I think we all expected her to say something along the lines of dad's affair, but let's just say that Franny has always been the unconventional one.

"Can I skip the clean-up session?"

----------------------------

Half an hour later, mum was at Mrs. O'Hare's "for a cup of tea" and Franny was snoring away upstairs.

"Cleaning up is a pain in the backside," grumbled Christopher, mopping the floor moodily.

"Like revenge," I added smartly, and he rolled his eyes.

"What do you call this? Out of pleasure comes pain?" asked Galahad, standing on a chair to retrieve a bit of a burst balloon from a lamp on the wall.

"That sounds weird," smirked Colette.

"Tristan is lucky to skip this whole ordeal," said Gawain wistfully.

"No, the first part was way cool," said Lancelot. "Your mum is so cool."

"Way cooler than _that_ woman," I said viciously, wringing a stuffed horse dry with more force than necessary.

"I wonder if they'd charge us for assault," said Christopher carelessly.

"I doubt it. The last thing dad wants is to bring attention to himself," I said sensibly. "That's only rational."

"Will they file a divorce?" asked Colette.

I shrugged. "We have no say in that."

Christopher moaned and sat down on the bottom stair. "This sucks."

"And we haven't even told her who you guys are yet," I added, throwing the horse at Arthur, who was collecting the stuffed toys in a large plastic bag.

"She doesn't need to know at the moment," he shrugged.

"Sooner or later she'll have to know. I wouldn't be surprised if she personally contacted the Macedonian government to send you back there then," I said.

Galahad looked alarmed. "Really?"

Colette nodded in agreement. "She's a woman of her words."

"Where did you find these stuffed toys?" I asked no one in particular, wrinkling my nose at a battered teddy bear which said "horny". "Not from Franny, I'm sure."

"In Chris's room," replied Galahad with a snicker.

I snorted. "Chris's room?"

Christopher refused to look at me, but seemed very absorbed in his mopping.

"I didn't know you collected teddies, Chrissie," teased Colette.

Gawain nudged me in the ribs and whispered in my ear, "You haven't seen him sleep, he sleeps with a teddy named Kim-"

"I heard that Gawain!" snapped Christopher, throwing a teddy at him.

"Are we at stuffed toy war again?" asked Lancelot.

A stuffed pig landed square on his nose. Galahad cheered and got hit by one of the 101 Dalmatians in return.

"Come on, Dotti! Let's make a fort!" I cried, grabbing my sister's arm and an armful of fuzzy toys.

"Okay boys! This way!" shouted Christopher, catching on the game.

"Hey! Five vs. two? That's not fair!" Colette protested, flinging Winnie the Pooh at Chris to emphasize the point.

"Galahad can join you," said Lancelot, grinning.

"Are you suggesting that I resemble a girl?" asked Galahad, huffing.

Arthur shrugged and grinned. "Your name does, Gal."

A Great White hit Arthur full force, and I shouted, "That's for you, Gal!"

"WAR!" screamed Colette, brandishing an elongated dolphin like a sword.

The knights exchanged knowing glances, then roared, "RUUUUUS!"

----------------------------

I usually sleep like a baby, especially after hysteric fuzzy toy battles (which we agreed was a tie, since we didn't really tally our scores). But suspicious noises, such as someone climbing into your window, do wake me.

And it really sounded like someone climbing into my room through the window. Sleepy as I was, my senses were suddenly sharp and alert, and I could clearly hear someone carefully making their way down my desk.

Thud. On the carpet now. Shuffling quietly. A trip and a muted curse. That must have been my bra. Oops.

Very close now. Just right next to my bed.

Oh God. He wasn't going to hurt me right? I assumed it was a he, since men were known to climb through windows more than women.

He had stopped. Oh God. Oh no. My heart was hammering hard against my ribcage, like it was shaking the whole bed.

I needed to stop him. Attack him before he did.

_Okay now, Faye. Stay calm, you're asleep, remember._

_Three… two… one…_

I leapt off the bed and practically threw myself onto the intruder, wrapping him in my blanket. We landed heavily on the carpet.

"Don't move! I've got you!" I hissed quietly, as if I didn't want to wake the others, which was incredible stupid and illogical. Help was the first thing I needed, right?

…Wrong.

"Faye."

He knew my name.

I blinked.

I gingerly peeled the blanket away to find myself staring at a now familiar face.

"Um, Tristan?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Ohmygosh I'm so sorry! I thought you were some crazed cold-blooded murderer looking for a girl to kill-"

"I'm not," he cut me off.

I nodded vigorously. "Right."

"Get off me."

"Excuse me?"

"You're on top of me."

Of course I was. I was too drowsy to remember to blush. I rolled off him clumsily and sat against my bed, too tired to move.

Stifling a yawn, I asked, "Why were you climbing through my window?"

"I didn't want to wake anyone," he said, tossing my blanket back onto my bed and sat down next to me.

"Oh right, I remember now, you were out with Midge," I could not keep the wintriness out of my voice. "Did you have fun?"

I saw him shrug in the dark. "It was fine."

"She likes the perfume, right?"

He nodded.

"That's a consolation," I said, yawning.

"You should be in bed," said Tristan, pulling me up.

"Ahuh," I drawled, falling onto my bed. "And oh, mum's back. Make sure you don't walk around naked again."

I was already drifting off to sleep, but I could picture him smirking at my advice just before I departed with consciousness for the night.

I think I dreamt of him walking around in a towel that night.

Uh huh, déjà vu indeed.

----------------------------

To make up for the crappy chapter 9, here's an insane out-of-control chapter for all of you who wants evil things to happen to Zora and daddy dearest. You finally meet mummy dearest, how do you like her? I'd love to know!

And thanks for the consoling reviews for the last chapter, I still feel guilty for writing such a crappy chapter. I like this one much better :) Hopefully you feel the same! And cookies for updating in three days! Go me!


	11. Stupid Medieval Cowboys

Chapter 11: Stupid Medieval Cowboys

"Lalala, Sunday is the best day of the week," I sang maniacally wackily as I whipped out a can of Sunkist from the fridge the following relatively early morning.

"May I ask why?" asked Christopher, reaching inside the cupboard for something edible.

"Two reasons. First, Sunday is a relaxing day," I replied, taking a sip of my OJ. "Second, there is no _dance class_."

My brother snorted. "You should be grieving, you have only five days to get your dance right and you still dance like crap."

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Excuse me if I find dancing a bit too psychologically challenging for me."

He snorted again.

"What? Is there something up your nostrils?" I asked sweetly.

"Oh shut up," he popped a few Ritz crackers into his mouth and chewed while saying, "Mum left a note."

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Christopher," I said sternly, earning a teasing punch from Christopher.

Chris gave me the note and I read it while slurping the rest of my OJ.

_Kids,_

_I'll be staying at Selina's for a while, so the house is all yours. I'll be contacting your father, don't worry._

_Love you,_

_Mum_

_P.S. Your presents are in my room!_

"More like 'kicking the crap out of your father'," I smirked, putting the note down in our receipts box.

Christopher shrugged. "Dad left a message on the receiver. Says he'll be staying at Zora's and he'll be talking with mum."

It was my turn to snort. "Through a lawyer, obviously."

Christopher shrugged and sighed. "Is it time for another sabotage plan?"

I shook my head. "It's time for them to figure it out for themselves."

"Well, a little help won't hurt," argued Christopher. "I mean, I think we already scared the hell out of Zora last time-"

"Yeah, she's more likely to marry dad then send us all to boarding schools in England than to break off her little affair," I said with a roll of my eyes.

Our conversation was cut short by a very feminine and hysteric scream from upstairs which echoed in the empty hall.

"Galahad," we said in unison.

Colette's head (basically a mass of tangled blonde hair) popped out from her door as we walked by.

"What was that?" she slurred sleepily.

"Galahad," I said.

"Stupid pervert," she muttered and shut the door.

Arthur and Dagonet were coming out of their room and we all exchanged knowing looks. I could already hear Galahad's excited babbling from outside Christopher's room he shared with the other guys.

"Wassup?" asked Christopher as we spilled into the room, still dark thanks to the drawn curtains.

Galahad gestured to us to be quiet as he spoke rapidly into the phone. "Of course. Tonight. Seven-thirty. I'll see ya there. Thanks mate, I owe you a whole lot."

The room smelled extremely masculine, I wrinkled my nose at the pile of dirty clothes on the floor. I proceeded to make myself comfortable on Christopher's bed, pushing away the bunched up covers to make space for Arthur.

"Where's Lance?" I asked him.

"Asleep," he replied, his voice raspy with sleep.

"Wow, he's a heavy sleeper to sleep through _that_ scream," I commented with a smirk.

Arthur nodded without answering, and I poked Gawain in the shoulder, who was asleep on the floor.

He moaned and slapped my hand away, hiding his head under his blanket. I snickered.

"Sure, no problem, okay, see you!" Galahad finally got off the phone and started laughing triumphantly.

"I totally have reason to think that you're psychotic," I said loudly with a cough.

"What's the cause of celebration?" asked Dagonet with a smile.

"The Club's giving me a slot tonight at seven thirty!" shouted Galahad, a wide grin on his face, jumping up and down on his makeshift bed. "I'm gonna sing tonight! WHOA!"

"Galahad, it's a makeshift bed, and you're gonna break it," said Christopher exasperatedly.

He shrugged with a grin but jumped onto the floor, his bounces metamorphosing into a very MJ dance.

"_Bop pop baby, please, don't let me go_," he started singing while Christopher provided the beat.

"_Bop pop baby, please, just let me know_," Christopher joined.

"You know what?" Galahad broke off suddenly. "You can join my band if you want to, Chris."

"Thanks man, but I'm way too busy," grinned Chris.

I rolled my eyes, and said, "You know what, I think Gawain, Dag and Arthur should be in your band, and I'll name you the Medieval Cowboys."

Christopher burst into laughter, and I grinned at Arthur's face.

"We're knights," he protested weakly.

"I love the name!" said Galahad cheerfully, sweeping me into a hug. "You're a genius Faye!"

"Well, don't you need to get to the club and practice now?" I asked bossily.

"You're right!" Galahad whooped and began dragging an oblivious Gawain out of the room. "C'mon guys, we gotta hurry!"

"What have you gotten us into, Faye?" asked Dagonet with an amused grin.

"Nothing you'll regret," I replied smartly. "Go on, you won't want to disappoint Galahad."

"You are impossible," mumbled Arthur as he left the room.

"I take it as a compliment, thank you very much," I winked and threw a pillow at him.

"That's my pillow," protested Chris, stooping to retrieve it from the ground as he walked to the door.

He threw it back at me and I caught it. "That's the point."

"Feeling smart today, aren't we?" his lips twitched. I nodded and he asked, "Aren't you coming out of there?"

"Ah, you remind me of something. Actually I wanted to borrow a book on Shakespeare," I said, crawling to the foot of his bed, where his bookshelf was. "Summer homework."

"Take your time," he shrugged and shut the door.

Christopher had a beautiful collection of Shakespeare's plays, all dark red and leather bound. I skimmed my fingertips over rows of smooth leather spines and pulled out _Romeo and Juliet_, seeing it was the only story I was interested in.

I hopped off Christopher's bed and over clumps of clothes to get to the curtains. I preferred reading in natural light. Plopping the book on the floor, I climbed onto the makeshift bed and was startled to feel something solid under my knee. I yelped and fell hard against the wall next to the bed, before I plopped down onto the mattress.

"Oww," I whimpered and rubbed the back of my head bed, while the covers shifted and I found myself face to face with Tristan… or, to be more specific, nose to nose.

I blinked as he arched an eyebrow at me.

"I'm so s-sorry, I didn't know you were sleeping here, um," I stammered, my cheeks bursting into flame, while I attempted to sit up, but found myself trapped between him and the wall behind my back.

Finding it extremely hard to look at him in his eyes, I asked his tattoo, "Um, do you mind-?"

As if he just realized our proximity, he leisurely moved off to the side and I bolted right up.

I took a deep breath and said rapidly. "I just wanted to let in some light, do you mind?"

He shook his head, and I awkwardly turned around and pulled the curtains to the side, taking my time to cool myself down. I mean, I was _in bed _with Tristan. Not in that sense of course (not that I would let that happen), but _still_.

Take that, Midge.

When I felt like my face has returned to normalcy, I turned back around but was stopped by the sight of Tristan's (you guessed it) bare chest as he sat up with a grunt. I gaped at the scars and more tattoos on his toned torso which I hadn't had the chance to see when I bumped into him in the dark. And I have to say that he would have many questions to answer if he did walk around half-naked.

I broke out of my trance when he kicked aside the blanket and got up, and my eyes seemed to glue themselves to his back, which looked so tanned and smooth in the morning sunlight.

I would've slapped myself if he wasn't in the room. I was getting carried away.

He began shuffling around for some clothes on the floor and I frowned.

"Don't tell me you're wearing those clothes," I said. "That's disgusting."

He looked up from his bent over position as if saying, "You find me some."

I rolled my eyes and responded to his unasked question. "Fine, sit down."

He complied and I got off his bed to Christopher's wardrobe. While I rummaged through his clothes for something suitable, I snuck glances at Tristan, who was now idly perched on the edge of Christopher's bed.

My goodness, he was so hot. Even though he hadn't brushed his teeth or washed his face or changed yet.

Well, _especially_ that he hadn't changed yet…

I snapped myself out of those improper thoughts and said casually, "You don't seem like the type to sleep in."

"I came in late last night," he said, his voice really, really scratchy.

"Really?" I asked.

"You should remember," he said matter-of-factly.

And all in a sudden, I did.

"Oh right, you climbed through my window," I said lightly, though I was laughing inside. "Don't do that again, okay?"

He nodded.

"Mum's not coming home for a few days," I said randomly. "And neither is dad, so it seems it's just we kids for now."

He nodded again.

"I take it you heard Galahad just now?" I asked, wrinkling my nose at a bright pink T-shirt.

He shook his head.

"He's singing at the Club tonight with Dag, Arthur and Gawain," I grinned. "I named them the Medieval Cowboys."

Tristan smirked, and I pulled out a short-sleeved black button down, and a random pair of frayed light-washed jeans.

"Here," I tossed the clothes to him.

He nodded his thanks, and I smiled back.

"I'll see you downstairs," I said, opening walking to the door.

"Faye."

I turned around to see a book flying straight into my face. I yelped and caught it just in time before it hit me in the nose.

"What are you? Hung over?" I snapped, my heart beating hard against my ribcage. "If you can't hold your liquor you shouldn't go out drinking into the wee hours of morning."

"Back to snapping now, huh?" he asked nonchalantly.

"You could've given me a nasty bruise, you know," I ignored him. "This book weighs a _ton_."

"Lover's quarrel?" asked Lancelot cheekily as he breezed past.

"Shut up!" I threw up my hands in frustration and grumbled, "Stupid medieval cowboys."

And slammed the door shut.

----------------------------

Apologies for the short chapter! But hey, you got some Tristan goodiness, right?

I hope you all liked this chapter, because that's all you're having for the following ten days. – gasp from readers- I know, I know, ten days is agony, but I'm going to Bangkok for a few days and then immediately to camp afterwards. The soonest I'll be able to update is the 30th July.

But don't worry! When I come back, I promise you all a long and _good_ chapter, if you get what I mean! –winks- Thanks for the amazing reviews, you guys! I'm so glad you enjoyed the insanity of the last chapter! Till next time, my dears!


	12. I Really Wouldn't Mind

Chapter 12: I Really Wouldn't Mind

"So you're supposed to turn on the third beat and I'm supposed to go the other way-"

"No, you're supposed to _hop_ then _twirl_ around me," replied Joshua, an edge of impatience in his voice as he gestured with exaggerated clarity.

"You're starting to snap at me," I complained, hands on hips.

"No, I'm not," he protested. "It's just that you need help. Serious help."

"Gee thanks, that really boosted my self-esteem," I said sarcastically.

"Come on, Faye, we only have what, four days left?" said Joshua pleadingly, reaching for my hands.

"Oh, okay, I'll try," I mumbled, straightening my back.

It was dance class again after school, and we were supposed to be practising by ourselves while Madame and Monsieur went around correcting our steps. I peered at Tristan from the corner of my eye, who was practically gliding over the dancefloor with Midge in his arms. They looked as if they had been dancing for years. Damn 'em.

"You 're looking at him again," said Joshua suddenly as he started walking forward, and me stepping backwards.

"What?" I faked ignorance, hopping to the side, praying that I wouldn't blush for once.

Joshua smirked at me mercilessly. "Oh, come on, Faye. I meant Tim."

"Well my eyes happened to glance that way, that's all," I replied smoothly.

We separated on a turn, and when we turned back to each other again, Joshua grinned cheekily at me. "I know what that look means on a girl's face-"

"I'm guessing you've seen a lot of that look cast in your way?" I teased, trying to get out of the limelight.

Joshua pretended to sound modest. "Well, I suppose I _am_ a rather coveted person in school-"

I rolled my eyes. "And somehow, you're here dancing with _me_."

He arced an eyebrow. "That sounds like self-degradation."

"I never self-degrade," I told him with dignity. "It's just that athletes like you and school council people like me don't exactly-" I broke off, searching for the right word.

"Mix?" supplied Joshua with a goofy grin. I nodded, and he chuckled. "Well, I'm quite the rebel and I like breaking rules."

I snorted. "That sounds incredibly cliche."

"No, I'm serious," he replied with what sounded like earnesty. "Do you want to go to the Dance with me?"

My jaw slacked and fell open inelegantly. "You're asking me to go to the Dance with you?"

Joshua suddenly looked a bit shy, something I couldn't place with the most popular boy in school. "I mean, if you're not taken or anything-"

I almost laughed out loud, but caught myself just in time. Me? Taken?

I didn't answer right away, but weighed my options as I flitted over my dance steps (ha,I wish):

a) a hot guy who was uninterested AND taken AND didn't ask me;

b) a cute guy who was interested AND un-taken AND asked me;

c) go alone

What's a girl to do?

I grinned up at Joshua as I swirled back to him. "Okay. I'll go with you."

-----------------

"I can't believe that woman!" I all but screamed as I threw the garage door open.

"Shouldn't that be our line?" asked Arthur smugly as he leisurely walked down the stairs.

"Shut up, smartass," I snapped, smacking his arm.

"Wassup?" asked Gawain, emerging from the TV Room with a Coke in hand.

"That woman made Joshua kiss my neck!" I yelled, too angry to blush.

Gawain had the adequacy to choke on his Coke. "Uh, may I inquire the reason? Or reasons?"

"To make the dance more SENSUAL!"

"Geez, chill, Faye, we're living in the 21st century," Chris rolled his eyes.

"Joshua won't even _look _at me now," I grumbled, trudging into the TV Room.

"You don't have a crush on him, do you?" asked Colette from behind.

"NO! Is that all you people talk about?" I replied in frustration.

"Then why do you care?" asked Lancelot, flopping onto his favourite sofa.

"Because he's my dancing partner!" I said, sitting down next to him. "And it's never a good thing when your partner refuses to look at you!"

"Oh, you'll survive," he said airily, patting my head.

I slapped his hand away and pouted. "I don't want to do this. I don't want to dance."

"Sorry kiddo, there's no way out," said Christopher, sitting on my other side. "Unless you break your leg or something."

My face must have brightened, because Lancelot went cautiously, "You wouldn't want to do that."

I grinned. "I think I would."

"My sister's a masochist!" shouted Christopher, a dramatic tremor in his voice.

"I'm not!" came Colette's distant protest.

"Not you! The other one!" my brother shouted back.

"What's a masochist?" Franny came trotting into the TV Room.

"You wouldn't want to know," I said solemnly.

I could see a "why" forming on Franny's lips, but Dagonet beat her to it. "DINNER!"

Only then did the aroma of bolognese hit me. I sighed and breathed in the delicious scent. I scrambled off the coach and raced the others to the adjourning dining room.

"Dagonet! You are my only saviour," I declared, giving him a teddy bear hug after he set down a steaming plate of spaghetti.

He grinned and said, "I'm glad to hear that."

"Colette! Galahad! Tris! Dinner is served!" bellowed Lancelot in the hall, which was followed by a quick succession of slamming doors and scampering feet.

"Dinner! My favourite meal of the day," gloated Galahad as he sat down in the chair opposite to me. "Why the long face, Faye?"

"Didn't you hear her just now?" asked Colette. "Madame made Joshua kiss her neck and he won't look at her now."

To my displeasure, Galahad laughed. Not the polite, ha-ha-ha then stop laugh. But the hysterical, thoroughly-amused laugh.

"Who's Joshua?" asked Franny curiously.

"I fail to see what is so funny," I said darkly, attacking my spaghetti viciously.

Galahad snorted in an attempt to stop his laughter. "Sorry. But why?"

"To add the lacking factor of sensuality into our dance," I quoted Madame grudgingly. "_Sensuality_. Can someone explain that please?"

"You should see _Take the Lead_, that's a truckload of sensuality," said Christopher while chewing.

"Don't speak with your mouth full, Christopher," I quipped.

"Yes mum," he rolled his eyes.

"Who's Joshua?" Franny asked again.

"A friend," I replied shortly.

"Where's Tristan anyways?" asked Gawain,eyeing the empty seat next to me. "He didn't go out with Midge, did he?"

"I thought he was on the car," said Colette.

"He was," replied Christopher. "I'll go get- oh, here he is."

He was obviously held up by a bath. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. His hair was wet and was plastered to his neck and face, and he was wearing an unbottoned polo with khakis. A wave of apple scent filled my nose as he made himself comfortable next to me.

"Actually, you should ask Tristan about _sensuality_, Faye," suggested Lancelot, giving me a knowing wink.

Colette nodded. "Yeah. Madame's officially crowned him and Midge the king and queen of Sensuality."

I felt my face flame up and I glared daggers at Lancelot, who was tactically examining a particular strand of spaghetti in great detail, while I could actually feel Tristan smirking at me.

"Sensuality?" he echoed quietly.

"You know what, guys? Forget that I even told you about that," I said disgustedly.

Dagonet chuckled. "Maybe you should stop teasing poor Faye here."

"See Dag? You're my only saviour," I sighed dramatically.

"Okay, we'll stop 'teasing' you," grinned Christopher. "But as an honest word of advice, you really need help with your dance, lil sis."

I groaned. "Am I really that bad?"

"You can't get through four bars of music without tripping thrice, what do you think?" Lancelot rolled his eyes.

I threw my spoon at him, which he caught easily.

"Table manners!" Dagonet rapped the table sharply.

"Didn't I tell you that I'm not dancing material?" I asked rhetorically.

"There's no use moaning about that anymore, really," said Colette boredly. "What you need is loads of practice."

"How exactly? My partner's going through an I-can't-bring-myself-to-look at-you-phase, in case you forgot," I said in snappish despair.

"I'll help you."

I actually dropped my fork in surprise before fumbling to keep it from falling off the table, then I proceeded to gawk at Tristan along with the rest of the table (except Franny, who was fascinated by a spot of bolognese on her T-shirt).

"You're serious?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"We had a deal," he said quietly.

Colette perked up. "What deal?"

I was racking my brain for "the deal" myself. Since when did I make a deal with anyone?

Then I remembered. I helped him pick out abirthday present for Midge. Gee, that was just a stupid joke!

"You actually remembered?" I asked in disbelief.

He shrugged. Guess that was a yes.

"What deal?" pressed Colette, leaning forward in her seat eagerly.

"Nothing of importance, I assure you," I said diplomatically. "Now eat and quit being so nosy. Franny, don't lick your T-shirt!"

"I swear, something's going on between those two," I heard my twin sister whisper to Lancelot.

I decided to let it drop. It wasn't entirely untrue... was it?

-----------------

"No, there will be no audience, get out of my room!" I pushed a complaining Galahad out of the door.

"Aw, c'mon Faye, there will be hundreds watching you this weekend! You need practise!" he argued, clawing at the door.

"I don't need that! Not yet anyways. Out!" I finally managed to shut the door triumphantly, albeit a bit nervously. I mean, I was shut in my room with Tristan. My nerves were justified.

"So, shall we get started?" I asked Tristan a bit too cheerfully. He was obviously interested in my bulletin board...

Shit.

"I am something to deal with?" he asked wryly, turning around. "Or rather, my attire?"

I forced a nervous laugh, sprinting over to my bulletin board and ripped the paper down. "Um, no, it's um, nothing. A product of sleep deprivation haha."

Tristan didn't seem convinced. Asif he were ever convinced by anything. He simply shrugged and said, "Put on your dancing shoes."

"What?" I squeaked. "But my feet hurt!"

"Put them on," he replied flatly.

With a huff, I slipped into the damn shoes, and winced at the ache in my heels. I glowered at him, "Let's get over with this."

"You dance," he instructed.

"What?" I once again resorted to the single syllable I tended to use around him.

He actually looked slightly annoyed when he answered, "I have to watch you to correct you."

"You're telling me to dance _alone_?

He nodded curtly.

With a groan, I complied. As if dancing with a human being wasn't humiliating enough, I was dancing with air. I held my arms up like an idiot and danced. I felt his eyes on me, which did nothing but fuel both my nerves and embarrassment. My face was burning like a furnace again in no time. Damn.

I hadn't gotten past the fourth bar when Tristan stopped me and nudged my right foot into place with his, and closed his hands over my shoulder, pushing them down.

"What the heck?" I squirmed uneasily.

"You are too tense," he said.

"I'm not tense, I'm standing straight," I replied snottily.

Tristan glared at me. "You have to be poised, not tense."

"Whatever that means," I muttered.

"Go on."

"No," I snapped. "This is dumb."

His face darkened. "I'm trying to help."

"Well you're doing a great job, mate, I feel like drowning myself right now!" I raised my voice.

"Be gentle with her, Tristan," came Galahad's voice from the other side of the door.

"Shut up!" I turned around and yelled at the door.

I yelped when I was yanked backwards and spun around to face a moderately ticked off Tristan, who smoothly curled his arm around my waist and grasped my hand.

And just like that, we were dancing.

Actually, it felt more like hanging ontoan umbrella in a really bad storm. He was so quick that I had no time to think, I could only follow. Somehow I did manage to catch up, as if his gaze were some magnetic field that drew the steps and turns out of me. And those eyes, geez. They were so dark and intense that it was impossible to look away.

Suddenly, he slowed down, and I finally had a few seconds to think. Slowing down? That could only mean one thing...

The "Sensual Part"... a.k.a. the dreadedneck-kissing part.

Then I panicked. And of course, I blame it on the heels as well. They must have caught a particular knot in the carpet, because the next thing I knew, I was falling onto the carpet, pulling Tristan down with me.

I hit the carpet with a muffled "eep", watching in horror as Tristan's six-foot frame got closer by each split second...and suddenly he stopped, just a millimeter from me. He had planted his hands on either side of my face, and the rest of him? I was too shocked to look. I could only think that thank goodness he had supernatural reflexes, or I would've been squashed like an ant.

A few seconds later I was aware of my panting, and that I was so close to him that I could see my reflection in his eyes. Slowly, my senses came back to me. I felt the warmth of his breath on my face, his scent of apple shampoo, his wet hair brushing my cheeks... and I might have leant ina little closer _just_ to count the dots on his tattoos...

"They're alive!" Galahad's bellow shattered the silence in the room after the door was flung open. "And I think I just got into serious trouble for interrupting a make-out session."

"What? _Wow_!" Colette sprinted into my inverted field of sight a millisecond later, looking as if she had won a hundred million dollars.

"Jesus, lock the door next time, okay?" Christopher darted in and closed the door before anyone else reached the scene.

I blinked for a few seconds, then timidly looked back at Tristan. He was staring steadily at me.

I cleared my throat uncomfortably, and he swiftly stood up, pulling me to my feet. I straightened out my T-shirt and fiddled with my hair, a blush creeping onto my face again.

"So, um, I guess I'm too tired to dance tonight," I murmured to my shoes.

I didn't have to look to know that he nodded.

"Thanks anyways," I said as he closed the door.

Once his footsteps faded, I kicked off my shoes and threw myself onto my bed, unable to suppress the silly grin splitting on my face.

If every practice session was like that, I wouldn't mind having one every day.

-----------------

Ooh, looks like someone's smitten with someone...

I'M BACK! I hope you guys missed me : I know I'm late, but I haven't had time to stop and type up something decent ever since I went on vacation last month. And it was awesome! The camp as well! And now I'm working at my dad's place lol... yep, I'm a busy authoress.

Well I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. Hopefully there will be more action soon hehe... thanks for the reviews as well! Keep 'em coming and I'll keep the chapters coming! See ya!


	13. Dining Out, not Going Out!

Chapter 13: Dining Out, not Going Out!

"Faye! Why did you miss dance class?" shouted Lancelot as I entered the TV room much later than usual. Only Lancelot, Colette, Galahad and Dagonet were there.

"There are only two days till the Carnival, Lance," I answered evenly. "As the president of the Carnival Committee, I have a lot of other duties other than attending dance class."

"But we got our costumes today," said Colette with a scolding tone.

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow, far from interested.

"You're lucky I grabbed one for you that actually looks okay," my sister continued in self-congratulation. "Try it later, or you'll never get it fixed in time for the Carnival."

"Well, thanks, I guess," I deadpanned, collapsing on the couch, narrowly missing Galahad, who was plugged to his iPod again. "Geez, I'm so tired. Did I miss dinner?"

"I can whip something up if you want," offered Dagonet from his rocking chair where he was reading a book, with Jamie Oliver grinning on the cover.

"No thanks, I'll find myself something," I declined, hauling myself up.

Franny was hopping down the steps merrily as I dragged myself uphill, and she stopped to give me a hug.

"You look really really really really tired," she announced solemnly before continuing her way down.

"I never knew," I mumbled before heading up again.

My room was thankfully empty when I got there, and I kicked off my shoes while pushing open my large windows. I dumped my folders with a loud thump and proceeded to flop down in my squashy chair. I absently chewed on my nails as I stared unseeingly out into our garden, and our neighbour's, in the deepening dusk.

I sighed and felt the silence settle around me. It was stressful, but in two days, everything would be over and I would have the entire summer to myself.

I suddenly frowned. Now that I had time to think about it, when would the guys leave? Would they be stuck here forever? Or would we wake up one morning to find them gone?

Well, that would be a shame. It had been what, two weeks already since they arrived? Dear Lord, I would probably miss them if they were gone. I had gotten use to the chaotic rush of activity in the morning when everyone fought off everyone else for the bathrooms, the rowdy laughter at the dinner table, the lazy lounges by the pool…

Oh great, I was already getting nostalgic while they were here.

And then my mind turned to the problem of my parents. We hadn't heard from either for one or two days, but I supposed they would be coming back for an announcement soon.

I shuddered at the thought of the two of them in court, telling the whole court that they were getting divorced- okay, I'm not even sure how the divorce thing works, but still, I bet it would be ugly. Probably with a bit of kung fu in the mix.

Oh shit. Was it the only way? _Must_ they get divorced? I didn't dare think of what would happen. I mean, it felt horrible. We were such a happy family, apart from the fact that dad was nearly always absent thanks to his duties in his hospital, and mum was always touring the world, and Christopher in university across the country-

Okay, maybe that doesn't _sound_ like a happy family, but we are. Were, I mean.

Resting my chin on the desk, I glued my eyes to the darkening sky, a feeling of dread creeping into my stomach. I didn't feel hungry anymore. Just very, very depressed.

There was a light knock on my door, and I was startled out of my reverie.

"Come in," I said, surprised at the choking quality of my voice.

Arthur walked in, looking concerned. "You okay? You missed dinner."

"I know," I replied. "I got busy yelling at the caterer. What's up?"

"I just wanted to borrow a book," he said with a smile. "Dag said you got some good ones on philosophy."

I forced a smile and gestured to my floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. "Help yourself."

I curled up in a ball in the comfort of my chair, and settled back to watch Arthur skim his fingertips over the spines of my books.

"Why do you think you got here, Arthur?" I asked.

He didn't turn around to answer me. "I really don't know. It's supernatural, I suppose."

I nodded, though he couldn't see. "I was thinking whether you guys would be whizzing back in time anytime soon."

This time, he turned to grin at me. "Do we annoy you that much?"

I mirrored his grin. "Just the opposite, mate."

The doorbell zapped before Arthur could answer, and we both raised an eyebrow.

Curious, I asked, "Tristan didn't go out again, did he?"

"No, we're all here," replied Arthur. "So that must be-"

"Shit!" I shot out of my room and down the stairs just in time to see Chris open the door.

"Hi mum!" I beamed as said person emerged. Then my happy face faltered. "…. Dad? Zora? Um… who are you?"

------------------

Ten minutes later, we were seated in the TV room. The guys were upstairs, of course, considering the fact that it was a family conference.

Dad and Zora (who shot us wary looks every two seconds) sat on the couch on the right side of the room, mum sat directly opposite to them in the rocking chair, with the four of us sprawled on the floor around her feet. Sitting in the biggest couch in the middle was the lawyer, introduced to us as simply Jake. He was taking his time, quietly shuffling what looked like tons of documents, very much at ease with himself.

I found myself staring at him from my perch on my beanbag chair. He looked familiar. I furrowed my brow and-

I jumped when Colette nudged me in the ribs. She whispered, "He looks like someone we know, right?"

"Yeah," I whispered back, my eyes still trained on him. He was dressed immaculately in a black suit, crisp white shirt with a dark blue tie, and black leather shoes.

My train of thoughts were cut short when Jake cleared his throat and started talking in a very fluid series of legal jargon, which I could scarcely pick up.

"-which means," he paused and looked up from the piece of paper he had been reading from. "We are here to discuss the problem of custody of you here." Jake smiled at us.

Hmmm, he was cute.

------------------

I nearly fell asleep in the "discussion" as Jake called it, although it was a more of an extremely heated debate between mum and dad, with a bit of table-slamming as well on mum's part. I bet she would've beat the crap out of dad after the first two minutes of discussion if not for Jake's presence.

Two hours were spent solely on whose place Christmas should be spent at, despite Jake's more than subtle attempts to move the discussion to a new direction. I fought the urge to stand up and scream, "WELL IF YOU TWO DON'T FREAKIN' DIVORCE THEN IT WOULDN'T BE A PROBLEM, WOULD IT!"

I think Jake noticed our boredom. I mean, it was pretty hard to miss both Christopher and Franny dozing comfortably on the carpet. I was hardly able to keep my eyelids from sliding down.

"Mr. and Mrs. Parkhurst," Jake interrupted their argument over Christmas trees. "I think we can go into these details at a later time, but at the moment, we need to move on to the more_ substantial_ part of our discussion."

"Count me out," said Christopher, suddenly awake, climbing onto his feet. "I'll be at university anyway. I'll most probably be staying during the holidays too."

"Christopher, sit down," said dad sternly. "We have to discuss this as a_ family_."

"You know what, I can't care less," I snorted, surprising even myself and followed my big brother. "I'll camp out at school if I need to. C'mon Franny."

"I'll camp out with you," said Colette promptly.

"Uh, maybe I'll have a talk with them?" I heard Jake say tentatively to our parents.

We were going up stairs when Jake jogged into the hall. "Hey guys, wait!"

"What do you want?" asked Colette flatly.

"Don't you recognize me?" he asked.

"You're Jake the lawyer," I said with a roll of my eyes.

He grinned. "No, you don't recognize me, Fifi."

My eyes widened at the mention of my nickname. I eyed his square jaw, his smiling green eyes, his high nose, his messy dark mass of hair. _Think!_ I commanded myself. He looked so, so, so familiar-

"Holy shit!" Christopher laughed, jumping down the stairs. "Jacob!"

Jacob grinned and pumped my brother's hand, grinning madly. "Isidore! Took you long enough."

Colette gasped beside me. "Jacob? Jacob who eats oreos with peanut butter?"

I shrieked. "Omigosh Jacob?"

"Yes, Faye, it's me," he grinned at me.

I squealed and scrambled down the stairs to give him a hug. "Wow, you're all grown up now!"

"So are you," he replied. "And little Franny isn't as little anymore, is she?"

"I don't remember you," pouted Franny, obviously feeling left out of the action.

"Of course you don't, you were only a baby when I last saw you," smiled Jake.

"It's been what, eight years already?" asked Christopher.

"Yeah, time flies," shrugged our long-lost neighbour. "Listen, I'd love to catch up with you guys, but at the moment, I need to get back to your parents."

"Aw, that sucks," grumbled Colette.

"I know it sucks," said Jake very un-lawyer-ish. "And I'm really sorry about your parents' decision, but still, we need to go through it."

We exchanged weary glances.

"Alright," said Christopher begrudgingly. "Let's get over with it."

------------------

It was midnight, but no decision had been made. I was half-asleep, leaning back on Christopher, Colette was leaning against me, Colette was fast asleep with her head on Christopher's shoulder.

"But you don't even wash your clothes!" mum was shouting when Jake stood up.

"I hate to interrupt," he said, which was obviously a lie. "But it's running late and I have an early appointment tomorrow. May I suggest a meeting at my office tomorrow afternoon?"

"I think that's a fantastic idea," shrieked mum, apparently pissed off at dad. "Well, I'll be going upstairs then. See you tomorrow, Jake. And oh, kids, you know this is Jacob from next door, don't you?"

"Yes mum," we deadpanned.

"Okay, good night then. Thank you, Jacob," she pecked him on the cheek. "You're all grown up now!"

"Just as Faye said," he grinned charmingly. "Good night, Mrs. Parkhurst."

"Well then kids, I'll see you later," said dad stiffly, pulling himself to his feet. "Let's go Zora."

We followed them to the door (Zora was still glaring at us, even more frequently with her back to us), and saw them out.

Jacob pulled me aside and asked quietly, "Are you free tomorrow night?"

"Um, I think so," I replied hazily, surprised.

He grinned at me. "I'll call you tomorrow."

He waved and jogged to his BMW parked just outside our house, and I watched him go with a silly grin on my face.

------------------

"Where are you going?" asked Colette for the gazillionth time. "Who are you going out with?"

"I'm not 'going out', I'm just dining out," I insisted, attempting to straighten out my brown hair but to no avail.

"With who?" asked my sister urgently. "Tell me. Now. Or I'll take that dress back," she threatened.

I had borrowed a dress from her, a no-fuss knee-length black dress, and silver flats to go with it, because Jake said that we'd be going somewhere "nice" earlier on the phone.

"It's none of your business," I replied calmly, picking up my bag.

"Of course it is! It's your first date, how can it be none of my business?"

"It's not a date!" I cried, exasperated. "Get over it, Dotti."

"You're not leaving this house without telling me who you're 'dining out' with," said Colette resolutely. "Tell me."

I did. And she squealed. I immediately shushed her.

"Don't tell _any_one," I warned her.

"But he's what, nine years older than you!" she continued to squeal.

I sighed. "Colette. It. Is. Not. A. Date. That's why it doesn't matter."

"Then why is he taking you out for dinner?" she asked.

"Maybe he has something to discuss with me," I shrugged.

"Then why only with _you_?"

"Colette, I don't know. Now get out of my way, I'm going to be late."

"Have you tried on your dancing dress on yet?" she asked, following me out of my room.

"Yes, I have, it fits," I said dismissively.

"Is Joshua talking to you yet?"

"Yes, he got over it," I quickly skipped downstairs. I wanted to quietly slip away without anyone getting any ideas.

"You _must_ tell me all the details when you get back!" Colette enthused, reaching out to straighten out my dress.

"What details- wow, what's wrong with you, Faye?" Galahad's jaw went slack.

I coloured. "Nothing's _wrong_ with me, Galahad."

"You're going on a date?" he all but shouted.

"Who's going on a date?"

I groaned as the whole house rushed to the hall to find out who was going out on a date. What a dull household it was.

"Whoa, you look nice, Faye," said Gawain cheekily. "Who's the man?"

I saw from the corner of my eye that Colette was about to answer, and I effectively shut her up with a death glare.

"I'm sworn to secrecy," said Colette almost regretfully.

"My baby sister's going on her first date," sniffed Christopher melodramatically, wiping away an imaginary tear.

"Shut up!" I snapped. "I'm not going on a date! I'm -"

"Dining out, yeah, whatever _that _means," Colette rolled her eyes. "Oh well, off you go."

"Have fun!" called out Lancelot suggestively.

I spun around to yell at him, but instead found my eyes caught in a gaze with Tristan's.

I turned around and slammed the door shut.

------------------

Jake was already there when I got to Angelini, a lovely Italian restaurant at the mall. He was talking animatedly on his cell phone, while consulting his Blackberry.

He looked up and smiled at me when I sat down at our table, my heart thumping like mad.

"I'll call you, okay? Bye," he finished off his call and grinned at me, "Hello Faye, you look gorgeous."

I blushed and smiled nervously. "Thanks, you look great too."

And he did. He was wearing a black suit again, but with a black shirt this time, and a gold tie. His hair looked a bit more orderly than usual, though.

"Busy day," he said, tucking his Blackberry away.

"You and me both," I replied, smiling.

"Really?"

"Yeah, we're having our annual Carnival tomorrow, it's hectic," I said.

"You're on the Committee, hmm?"

"Yeah, I'm the president," I couldn't help adding.

Jake grinned. "Impressive."

"Do you want to come tomorrow? It will be really fun, I promise," I grinned back.

He pretended to think really hard, prompting a laugh from me.

Then he said with a wink, "I'd love to."

------------------

It was past midnight when Jake stopped his roomy BMW outside our house, and I sat for a moment, grinning at him.

"It's been a great evening, thanks Jake," I said.

"You're welcome," he replied, palming the steering wheel. "It was great talking to you." His grin widened in conspiracy.

I laughed. "Thanks so much, Jake. I'll see you tomorrow then."

I hardly had time to freeze when he leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Good night, Faye."

"Good night," I was grinning so hard that my cheeks ached. I got out of the car and waved, then walked to the door.

He was still there when I was closing the door. He gave me one last wave and drove off, leaving me staring after the shadow of his car, a blush on my cheeks.

"You're late."

I barely managed to rein in a scream as I turned around to the voice, meeting Tristan's cold gaze.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people," I replied in the same tone, shutting the door behind me.

"You should rest for tomorrow," he said, ignoring my complaint.

"It's hardly any of your business whether I rest or not," I said, not meeting his eyes as I locked the door for the night.

"It is unfair for the whole team to suffer for one person's irresponsible behaviour," he shot back stiffly.

"Well if you're so concerned, why aren't you asleep right now?" I asked sharply, brushing past him to go upstairs.

"Someone has to watch the door," he replied matter-of-factly.

"Well then, rest assured that I do have keys," I snapped, jingling them in front of his face. "So next time you won't _have_ to watch the door."

I proceeded to march up the stairs, but he grabbed my wrist and I glared at him. "What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" he echoed mockingly. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"Is there a particular reason to your discourtesy to me?" he more or less growled.

"Discourtesy?" I snorted. "Last time I checked, I'm not the one acting like your mother nor am I the one sneaking up on others."

"Have I done anything to deserve your hostility?" he asked flatly.

I was about to say that his relationship with Midge was enough to make me want to kick him out of the house, but stopped myself. What was I? Jealous?

Ha, very funny.

It was hardly any of my business who he chose to go out with.

"No, but you have my pity," I spat at him.

His face darkened further. "What do you mean?"

I smirked. "Don't tell me you don't know."

I yanked my wrist from his grasp, and coolly swaggered back to my room.

I wasn't jealous. Heck, I didn't_ need_ to be jealous.

As I snuggled down to sleep, I smiled at the thoughts of a certain guy named Jake.

And of course, I dutifully reminded myself of the big day ahead of me.

------------------

Sorry sorry sorry! I'm SO sorry for the delay in updates, my dears, but my life has been hectic. And school hasn't started yet. I've been busy with a fashion design competition, and me and my friend still have loads to do! Please forgive me if I disappear again, but writing isn't at the top of my list at the moment. Thanks for sticking with me, I love to hear from you!

Sooo… how do you like the developments so far? Faye is smiiiitten again… with the wrong person! Uh-oh, I must remedy that soon. I hope you guys liked the chapter! Not my favourite, but it has to do at the moment. I hope I'll have time to write a new chapter soon! Till the next chapter everyone.


	14. I’m Playing With Fire, Yeah Right

Chapter 14: I'm Playing With Fire, Yeah Right

I'm not much of a bragger, but the Carnival was simply _amazing_.

Everything was in order and everybody was enjoying themselves. I could hear the fun from the lively music and the laughter around me as I combed the crowds for anything that was out of place or needed to be changed.

By noon, we were playing cards at the back of our Committee Tent. It was set up like a gypsy's tent (or what I thought what a gypsy's tent looks like), it was midnight blue and a sign with "Fortune Telling" scrawled on it was hanging at the entrance. It was Jesse who came up with this incredibly fun idea to raise money for charity, as was the practice of the Carnival Committee.

Kim was currently on duty as the fortune teller, dressed in a long black cloak with a hood covering her face and fake super-long fingernails, which were crawling over a crystal ball sitting on the small round table in the headquarters of the tent, separated from our lounge by a flap of cloth.

"I'm hungry," I said. "Can anyone go and buy lunch?"

"No," chorused Brian, Jesse and Vicky.

I rolled my eyes and put my cards down on the ground upside down. "Fine. I'll go."

"I want a pepperoni pizza," said Jesse.

"No, you won't get one unless you go with me," I replied, making a face at him.

"Pleeease?" he pleaded, putting on his puppy face.

"You don't do that half as good as Galahad," I said, shaking my head.

"Galahad?" asked Vicky with a frown.

"Um, I meant Ga-Ga-Gary," I stuttered. "I think. Um, I mean, yeah, Gary."

Brian narrowed his eyes suspiciously at me. "Galahad? That sounds like some weird medieval name-"

"Anyways," I interrupted him loudly. "I'm going to get you all hotdogs now so no looking at my cards okay?"

I dashed out of the tent through the "backflap", my heart pounding like mad. Oh great, I let it slip. I couldn't believe that I just said Galahad's name in front of everyone! No big deal though, no normal person would link Galahad to a medieval knight. I mean, that guy sang Westlife! Seriously.

It seemed like Brian had an idea, but he was a sensible person, he couldn't _possibly_ suspect that the guys had traveled through time. Right?

I was still musing when I was grabbed from behind, and I yelped as I was dragged backwards towards our tent.

"What the-?" I couldn't finish my question as Kim pulled the hood of her cloak over my face and the fake fingernails were jammed over my own.

"Alright, get out there!" hissed Kim and pushed me to the front of the tent before I could ask what the hell was going on.

Oh my God.

I immediately made a move to run back to our lounge before the couple sitting at the table noticed, but three pairs of hands pushed me forward. I tripped and nearly fell, effectively catching the attention of the pair.

I swore to Heaven, I would kill my own Committee myself when I got over with this.

I wordlessly sat down at the table, grateful for the fact that the hood shadowed my face.

"What would you like to know of your future?" I asked, disguising my voice in a thick accent I made up myself.

Midge leaned in close to Tristan, and said breathlessly, "I wanna see my future with my boyfriend. Right, Timmy?"

It took all my strength not to let my jaw hit the table as Tristan gave a small smile at her adoring face.

He actually _smiled_ at her.

For two whole weeks I hadn't seen him smile. I mean, the closest he got to smiling was smirking.

Did _he_ just _smile_ at _her_?

Geez.

I forced a smile myself and poised my fake fingernails over the crystal ball, moving them in a circular motion as I racked my brain for something to say about her "future" with her boyfriend except that he might be whizzing back to the past anytime soon.

This fortune telling thing was more of an impromptu game, which I should be good at since I'm on the British Parliamentary Debating team. But my whole mind was a blank.

Then it came to me.

I kept my voice low and mysterious. "I see- smoke."

"Smoke?" echoed Midge with a scowl. "As in cigarettes?"

"Do not interrupt the fortune teller," I said ominously. "I see smoke over a great field. The grass has faded to brown, the sun is veiled by the haze."

I paused, trying to recall the battle scene in the Lord of the Rings movie.

"There is a great army," I saw Tristan stiffen, and Midge looked baffled. "There are swords, and arrows, and eagles flying overhead. There is a wizard cloaked in white- no, scratch that."

I turned to Midge, making sure that the cloak still hung over my face. I didn't even notice my voice going lower. "I see your boyfriend in the middle of it, a sword in hand, wearing armour, on a warhorse. There are screams, blood- and _death_."

Midge gasped, and Tristan solemnly put a protective arm around her shoulders. I had to bite the insides of my mouth to keep myself from throwing up.

"But- but why?" she asked squeakily.

"Why?" I smirked. "Only fate knows."

Tristan tossed a coin in the charity box and stood up, staring intently at me. Like he knew I was me (um, yes, that made sense). I kept my eyes trained on the crystal ball as they walked out, Midge sniffing pathetically.

When I thought that I was safe, I threw back my cloak, only to meet the steely gaze of Tristan.

"What?" I snapped.

"We need to talk," he replied flatly.

"As I have said before, I thought you weren't that _fond_ of talking," I said in rapid fire.

"Faye," he growled. "I am serious."

"And I'm not?" I shot back. I stood up and poked him in the chest. "I don't know what's up with these weird tantrums you choose to throw at me, just _cut it out _'cause I'm _sick_ of your behaviour."

"We need to talk," he repeated himself.

"Yes, I heard that the first time round but NO I'm not talking to you!" I turned around to leave but Tristan managed to haul me outside, despite the fact that I was practically digging my heels in the ground. "Let me go!"

He didn't stop till we were a few feet away from our tent, a relatively quiet area, and I jerked my wrist from his hand.

"What do you want?" I snarled at his tanned face.

"Why did you talk about that?" he asked darkly.

"Care to clarify?"

"The battle."

"It just came up. What? Did it upset your girlfriend?" I asked sweetly.

He took a step towards me, but I didn't move. Heck, did he think that I was _scared_ of him? He needed to have his masculine ego deflated. It's the twenty-first century, for crying out loud.

"Was it deliberate," he asked/stated.

"It was _spontaneous_," I replied.

"Why did you hint at our origin," he asked/stated again.

"Oh, did I?" I asked innocently.

Tristan leant down and said threateningly in my ear. "You're playing with fire."

I mirrored his move, standing on tip-toe and whispered sarcastically in his ear. "I'm _scared_."

He simply smirked at me and walked away.

------------------

I must have looked murderous when I got back to the tent, because Jesse volunteered to buy lunch for everyone and Vicky suddenly lost her walkie-talkie which was still strapped to her belt. Only Kim had the guts to talk to me.

"Well, what did he want?" she asked, sounding impatient.

"Nothing," I replied.

"Oh yeah? You two were glaring at each other like there's no tomorrow," stated Kim with a smirk.

"That's because Tim only knows how to glare at people," I said dryly. "And why the heck did you get off duty so suddenly just then?"

"Oh, I just thought you'd want to handle those two yourself," shrugged Kim nonchalantly.

I snorted. "_Handle_ those two?"

"You did a great job by the way," she patted me on the shoulder. "You scared the crap out of Midge."

"My pleasure," I said tonelessly.

"Someone's looking for you, Faye," called Vicky suddenly from outside.

Thinking it was another Music Association committee member, I groaned and trudged outside.

I brightened immediately when I saw my visitor. "Jake!"

"Faye!" he laughed and gave me a hug. "It took me forever to find you!"

"Well, you did find me after all," I grinned.

"The Carnival looks fantastic, great job," he commented, looking around appraisingly.

I took advantage of the moment to scan his attire. He was dressed in formal clothes, but his shirt was not tucked in and he wasn't wearing a tie. I ignored the looks Kim was giving me which were screaming "Who is this hot guy!".

"You just got off work?" I asked casually.

"Yeah, it's horrible, being a lawyer," he joked with a wink.

I laughed. "Have you had lunch yet?"

"No, you?"

I shook my head. "Let's get a hotdog or something."

"Cool," said Jake. "Then maybe you'll show me around?" He wriggled his eyebrows comically

I grinned. "Love to."

The hotdogs that we bought were thankfully edible, and we had a stroll around the Carnival before I suggested going on the Ferris Wheel.

"How did you manage to get hold of that?" asked Jake, staring up at the Wheel as we got into line.

"By yelling on the phone," I replied smartly.

Jake grinned. "Sounds like you're good at that."

I was about to reply when I spotted someone over his shoulder.

I must have started glaring or something, because Jake followed my gaze and when he turned back to me, he had a questioning look on his face.

"Hell-ooo Faye," sang Midge as she queued up behind us, her hand laced with Tristan's. "Who's your friend here?"

I didn't bother to smile. "Guys, this is Jake. Jake, this is Midge and Tim. He's staying at our house at the meantime."

"Nice to meet you," said Jake warmly.

"Hi Jake," said Midge flirtatiously. "I haven't seen you around at school."

"I'm not a student," answered Jake politely. "I'm a lawyer."

"Wow, that's so cool!" enthused Midge. "How did you two meet?"

I was aware of Tristan's hard stare at us, and I said calmly, "We knew each other when we were kids."

"We were neighbours," added Jake.

"Wow," said Midge dismissively. "Oh, aren't you excited about our dance later, Faye?"

Jake looked curious. "What dance?"

"It's just a performance," I shrugged. "It's a tradition for the Committee to perform something to wrap up the show."

"It's _ballroom_ dancing," said Midge importantly.

"Ballroom dancing!" grinned Jake. "You never told me, Faye."

"You never asked," I replied lightly.

"Will you be staying to watch, Jake?" asked Midge excitedly.

"I'll have to leave by three," he answered. "When's the dance?"

"Aw, you're gonna miss it," she lamented. "The dance starts at five!"

"What a shame, I'll be at a meeting then," winced Jake. "Maybe I'll dance with you sometime later?" he turned to me with a smile, shutting Midge out.

"I'm not sure if I want to dance anymore after tonight," I replied uncertainly.

"Why?"

"High heels are fatal," I said solemnly.

Unexpectedly, Jake laughed, and I had to grin at him.

"Next!"

"Come on," he took my hand and we hurried to take our places on the Ferris Wheel.

------------------

I guess I was glad that Jake wasn't there to watch me dance. I was so nervous that I was ready to jump off a building.

"Breathe, Faye," Joshua ordered, hands on my shoulders. "Just breathe. You'll be fine."

"No! I can't remember anything!" I shrieked in the tent behind the stage. "Can I go home? Pleeease?"

"Nonsense," said Lancelot sternly. "You're gonna be fine. Stop fretting."

"Oh my God," I started to lower my face to my hands, but Colette leapt at me and grabbed me.

"No touchie!" she screeched. "You'll ruin the make-up!"

"Repeat after me," Christopher joined in my personal counseling team. " 'I will not make an ass out of myself.'"

I was bordering on hysteria. "I WILL make an ass out of myself!"

"Piss off!" said Kim, shoving my brother away. "You're making her nervous!"

"Nervous? I'm HYSTERIC!" I yelled. "Oh please, just let me go! I'll buy you all lollipops! Strawberry flavour! I'm serious!"

"Thirty seconds!" shouted one of the assistants.

"Noooo!" I sobbed tearlessly.

"What do you do to a hysteric teenage girl?" Joshua asked Colette.

"Um, slap her?" suggested Christopher.

"No! Her make-up!" screamed Colette, annoyed.

Then Tristan was standing before me, his hands in his trousers' pockets, looking incredibly good in his dancing suit.

"We practised," he said quietly, his eyes holding mine in a composed manner.

I nodded.

"You will remember your steps."

I nodded.

"Alright dancers, take the floor!"

"C'mon gorgeous!" Joshua grabbed my hand.

Suddenly, it all began.

The afternoon sun was gentle and warm on my face, frozen in a smile, walking as elegantly as I could on dark blue heels which matched my dress. I could hardly see the crowd just a few feet away as Joshua and I took centre stage, which Madame reluctantly agreed to only because I was President of the Committee.

I rested my right hand on Joshua's shoulder, while he held my other, arched my back and looked at the clouds overhead, waiting for the music to start. In the few moments of silence I tried to bribe myself. _If I don't fall, I can go home and take my heels apart then throw them at stupid Midge looking so smug with Tristan-_

I was startled out of my evil plans when the music started with a bang. It was quicker than I remembered, and I found that there was no room for nerves as my head filled with the routine of my steps and the enticing rhythm of the music, banishing all other stray thoughts.

Quick, quick, slow- quick, quick, slow- those practice sessions with Tristan really paid off. I could see the surprise on Joshua's face as I got through the first half of the dance without tripping, though some of my steps were unsteady. The music slowed and he twirled me around so I was facing the crowd, all hushed and attentive, as the notes dwindled to a soft, mellow note.

Then it started again, in a much more seductive tone than it had before. The sensual part.

I took a deep breath and waited. When the hand came, I knew it wasn't Joshua's. Shit.

The grip on my shoulder was confident, dominant, even. The palm was rough, sliding down my bare shoulder and the whole length of my arm to take my hand and spun me around in a tight turn.

For once, my prediction was right.

I threw my arm around Tristan's neck and closed the space between us leisurely, in time with the slow music, till we were so close that I saw my reflection in his dark eyes.

Suddenly the music accelerated like water spilling over a steep, narrow creek. I twisted out of his grasp, doing an impression of a "startled deer", as Madame liked to put in. I think I just ended up looking weird, but there was no time to wallow in my ridiculousness.

It was a dance of an impatient man and an unsure lady, Madame had said. And I didn't get it until now. Tristan moved with an predatory grace, his feet following mine with such an aggression that it sort of scared me.

The deep, seductive music sounded as if it was played to match Tristan's steps. His rhythm was impeccable. His foot touched the floor the exact moment a new bar of music started, his hands touched mine the very second the music heightened.

He made me nervous, and nervousness should lead to mistakes, but the way he led allowed no possibility for mistakes. His eyes seemed to draw the steps out of me, and I couldn't look away. Heck, I don't think I could've danced a wrong step even if I chased after myself with a stick.

And Madame didn't crown him the king of sensuality for nothing. My breath hitched every time his hands innocently skimmed my back and possessively seized my waist whilst the music grew richer, which were plenty.

Before I knew it, the last chord struck, and I was pressed against Tristan, our faces level, one of my arms around his neck and the other flung heavenwards.

The applaud didn't reach my ears until I became acutely aware of his hands on my waist and my thigh, and in a panic I nearly fell off him.

"Geez, get offa me," I hissed, and he unhurriedly freed me, with a smirk that I couldn't quite categorize on his face, still holding onto my hand as we bowed to the crowd.

"Faye! Faye! We love you!" I recognized Gawain and Galahad's maniac shouts in the enormous noise thrown at us, but I couldn't see them in the sudden rush of dizziness that attacked me.

I practically fled the scene once I hit backstage, not even noticing that I was running on heels. I didn't stop running till I reached the girls' room, and locked myself in a cubicle, panting like a horse, my brain in knots.

"Calm down," I commanded myself aloud. "Whoa."

What _happened_ back there? Why was I dancing with Tristan? How could I have _enjoyed_ it so much?

Because it felt really good. It was the kind of satisfaction that came to me an outstanding speech or a won debate. Funny it should come after a dance, especially one with Tristan-who-had-just-pissed-me-off.

"Faye Parkhurst!" someone burst into the washroom, screaming.

I opened the door of my cubicle. "What?"

Midge stalked furiously over to me, and yelled in my face. "You stole my boyfriend!"

"What?" I gaped.

"You stole my boyfriend!" she shouted louder this time.

"I heard you, you idiot!" I snapped. "And I didn't steal your boyfriend, as you put it!"

"Then why were you dancing with him?"  
"Am I _supposed _to know?" I shot back.

I shouldn't have been surprised when Midge burst into tears, and that was when her followers entered, tissues ready and all.

"Darling!" squealed a random cheerleader. "Why are you crying?"

"That _slut_ stole my boyfriend!" Midge sniffed, flinging an accusing finger at me.

"Which part of the sentence did you not understand?" I asked, rolling my eyes. "I. Did. Not. Steal. Your. Freaking. Boyfriend. Geez, I knew you were intellectually challenged, but it seems that you're worse than I thought."

"I know, darling! I saw!" another faithful follower sent me a glare.

"My dance was _ruined_!" sobbed Midge dramatically.

"Don't cry, darling! Your boyfriend will be heartbroken to see you like this!" cooed yet another cheerleader.

I snorted. "I'm outta here. Drama's not for me."

"You won't get away with this!" cried Midge, as threateningly as she could, which was not threatening at all.

"I am currently, literally, getting away," I told her, and shut the door behind me.

"Faye!"

I turned around and scowled. "Joshua Greenings. Just the man I needed."

Joshua had the grace to look uneasy. "Um, something wrong, Faye?"

"Why did you dump me?" I asked sharply.

"I didn't dump you!" he protested.

"Oh yeah? Was it a mirage or was I dancing with Timothy?" I challenged.

"Oh _that_," he said, scratching his head. "Well, you see-"

"If you were _that_ ashamed of dancing with me, you could've told me," I interrupted him, poking his shoulder. "But I _don't _appreciate being tossed around without my consent."

"Look, Faye, I'm sorry but-"

"Yeah you're sorry, but guess what, it doesn't matter because within fifteen minutes the whole school will be thinking I'm a slut who stole the most popular girl's boyfriend," I snapped.

"It's not like that-"

"Well it seems to me that it _is_ like that. Whatever Joshua, game over," I turned on my heels and returned to the field.

Kim was the first person I saw after I emerged from the school building, and she looked beautifully flushed and excited.

"There you are!" she grinned, grabbing my arm. "We have a surprise for you!"

"Oh?"

We sprinted across the field (on heels, mind you, I was getting hang of it) to the stage we just performed on, and I was surprised to hear music- Westlife, precisely- wafting gently in the air.

A large crowd of people were swaying to the tender tone of _Why Do I Love You_, and I couldn't help but laugh when I saw the Medieval Cowboys singing on stage.

"_Why do I love you?_" cooed Galahad into the microphone, looking like a pro. "_Don't even want to. Why do I love you like I do, like I always do?_"

Then Gawain caught sight of me and waved, and heads swiveled to my direction.

Brian and Jesse then went on stage and pushed Arthur from his mike stand, while the others continued the song.

Jesse said animatedly into the microphone. "I guess we all owe our thanks to Faye, who made this amazing Carnival possible, and for the lovely dance she just performed for us. Thank you, Faye, we love you."

I blushed as I was awarded a round of applause, and cheeky catcalls from Gawain and Galahad.

"We love you Faye!" shouted Gawain before going back to his cooing. "_Why do I love you like I do, like I always do?_"

"And of course, we have to thank the rest of the Committee as well," added Brian jokingly, but was given an uproar of cheers. "And to our guest performers, the Medieval Cowboys!"

"That's all from us folks, have fun and we wish you all a good night," concluded Jesse.

I cheered with the rest of the crowd, a warm happiness settling in my stomach. We did it. We pulled it off. It was _done_.

I knew then why I had that sense of satisfaction a few minutes ago. It was not because I danced with Tristan- it was because I knew our hard work had finally paid off.

"I love you guys!" I declared as we did a Committee Hug.

"We know," winked Brian. "Now let's go and celebrate!"

------------------

"Wow, your car's a mess, Brian," I said, climbing over a stack of books.

"Yeah, I hate clearing lockers," he replied.

I stopped short. "What?"

Vicky pushed me out of her way. "Don't tell me you forgot, it was you who insisted on having the school clear the lockers."

"Oh shit, I forgot!" I swore.

"Here, take this bag and get over with it," said Jesse, throwing me an empty plastic bag.

"Thanks," I grumbled and got off the car, jogging all the way to my locker.

The corridor was empty and eerily quiet, though I could hear the distant thump of the Medieval Cowboys' songs. I quickly unlocked my locker, and groaned at the enormous piles of paper that had accumulated in it.

I was gingerly extracting a very old sweater from the mound when someone cleared their throat behind me.

"Tristan!" I hissed, my hands on my chest. "You scared me."

He did not say anything, but stepped closer till he was standing before me.

"I want an explanation," I demanded bravely, looking at him in the eye. I remembered the times that I was afraid to even hold his gaze, which were quite recent, actually. I wondered when I got rid of that fear.

"So do I," he replied, burying his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

For the first time, I realized that he had untucked his white shirt and unbuttoned the first few buttons, but his hair was still gelled in a tidier fashion than his usual scruffy style.

"Why did you and Joshua switch places?" I asked, my eyes snapping up to his.

"You needed help."

"No I didn't," I protested. "I would've asked if I needed help."

"No, you wouldn't have," he answered self-assuredly.

"Oh yeah? What makes you think so?" I asked, folding my arms across my chest. His eyes followed the movement, lingering inappropriately, consequently making me blush.

"Your pride," he said simply.

I snorted. "Sounds like you know me pretty well."

"Observation," he shrugged.

"Still," I brought the conversation back on track. "That doesn't give you the licence to change partners, _especially_ dance partners. Mind you, I wasn't the only one who seemed upset about it. Your girlfriend made the biggest fuss in the century over it."

He looked thoroughly uninterested, so I continued bitterly, "She called me a _slut_."

"Which means?"

"A whore, prostitute, something along those lines," I explained impatiently. "Obviously, she thought the switch was_ my_ idea. So you'd better go and make it up to her, or the entire school would think that I _am_ a slut and I'll be kissing my potential School Council presidency goodbye."

"I will explain," he nodded.

"Oh joy, at least I can rest assured that my clothes won't magically disappear after my PE lessons," I said sarcastically. "But you won't get that anyways. So in conclusion, do _not_ do anything concerning me without my permission in the future, all clear?"

He nodded again.

"Cool, so goodbye to you, I guess you'll be busy explaining to your dear girlfriend that you willingly chose to dance with me over her today," I turned back to my locker, but his hand stopped me.

"You haven't answered my question," he said.

"You haven't asked," I retorted.

"Who is Jake?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes. "Um, hello? The guy you saw today. That's Jake."

Tristan frowned. "I meant your relationship."

I stared at him. He was the last person on earth who I thought would be interested in others' affairs. "Uh, why do you care?"

"Answer me," he commanded.

Defiance swelled in me. "Who am I? Your all-knowing electronic dictionary?"

Tristan gave me his mocking smirk. "It was a simple question."

I fought the urge to bare my teeth at him like a wolf, and replied snappishly, "We're friends. _Just_ friends. Happy, mother dearest?"

He took another step forward. Now I was feeling the effects of claustrophobia.

"Okay, I take the 'mother dearest' part back-" I started blabbering, but found myself completely incapable of continuing when he started kissing me. On the mouth.

My brain seemed to shut down the very moment his lips touched mine, because my knees gave way and in a haste Tristan had pushed me against the locker door beside mine to keep me from collapsing like jelly. I could feel one of his hands grasping my waist, while the other was planted next to my head. To make sure he didn't fall on me, I supposed.

Because it really felt like he would be falling on me. I had never been kissed like this- well, the _only_ other time I kissed someone was just an emergency situation- but this, it felt weird. Like he was really eager.

But Tristan was never eager, right?

Well, here he was, kissing me like there was no tomorrow. Or at least it felt like that. My lungs were running out of oxygen and my skin was so hot that it felt like it was on fire. My mind was in such a haze that I hadn't even kicked his ass for kissing me yet.

_What am I doing?_

In a panic, I pushed him away.

"What do you _think_ you're doing?" I hissed, panting for breath.

He was as stoic as ever, he didn't even look as if he was breathing.

"You have a freaking girlfriend! An intellectually challenged one but still, she's your _girlfriend_! And you can't go around kissing people when you're in a relationship!" I rattled on, only because I didn't know what to do otherwise. "And what was that for? Who says you could kiss me, huh? Are you insane? I'm_ pissed off_ at you, for crying out loud! And what if somebody saw us? Can you imagine what would happen to my potential presidency-"

My tongue involuntarily tied itself when he came way too close again. For the second time that day, he leant down and slurred in my ear, "You're playing with fire."

"Yeah, and I'm the fire extinguisher," I snapped, elbowing him in the ribs. "Piss off. And don't you _dare_ kiss me again." My voice wavered when I got to the last part and I scowled, frustrated.

He smirked at the slight treble in my declaration, and I barked, "I mean it! And don't you ever _smirk_ at me!"

That only seemed to encourage him to smirk, as he said a third time, "You're playing with fire."

"Shut up!" I yelled at his back as he coolly left me flushing bright red in the middle of the hallway.

------------------

(nervously) Well?

I won't further comment on this chapter, I just hope you guys liked it hehe. I originally planned to make it longer, but it's already 13 pages long, so it will continue in the next chapter.

Once again, I'm incredibly busy, though the fashion thing is over- and no, I didn't win, but it was a fantastic experience. I'll try to update asap, but with my public exams only seven months away, there is no guarantee. I will try to finish the story before my exams though, so have your fingers crossed!

Last but not least, thanks for the amazing reviews everyone! I'm surprised at the number of people saying that they've had a good laugh! I'm flattered! Well, till the next chapter, as always!


	15. What Beats the Roller Coaster

Chapter 15: What Beats the Roller Coaster

"Are we done feeding the seagulls?" I asked impatiently, slurping on the last of my iced mocha as I watched Franny, Dag and Galahad jovially throw crumbs at a crowd of birds.

The rest of us had commandeered half of the outdoor seats at Starbucks, finishing up our light lunch of muffins, meat puffs and caffeine, enjoying the amazing view of Darling harbour and the light sea breeze.

"Where are we going again?" asked Gawain, looking a bit scruffy since he decided to grow a goatee.

"LUNAR PARK!" hollered Franny, skipping back to us. "I want to go on the Tumble Bug!"

"I don't think you're tall enough, Fran," replied Christopher with a grin. "But you can go on the Wild Mouse."

"YES!" she cheered and began bouncing up and down again. "Let's go let's go let's go!"

"Finally!" I beamed as I jumped to my feet, putting on Colette's oversized sunglasses to shield my eyes from the bright early afternoon sun.

"What's the Wild Mouse?" asked Arthur, coming up beside me as we started on our expedition to Lunar Park on foot.

"It's a roller coaster," explained Colette, walking hand in hand with Lancelot.

"What's a roller coaster?" Galahad plugged on his earphones again.

"Don't even get me _started_ on roller coasters!" I gushed, grinning from ear to ear.

"I won't," grinned Christopher. "Roller coasters are rides you find in amusement parks. Like, they have this track that usually goes twisting and turning, and they have these cars which run on them. And of course, people sit in those cars."

"I don't get it," said Galahad bluntly.

"Oh you don't have to," I said, grabbing his arm and swinging it in excitement. "You'll see when you get there."

Lunar Park's grinning entrance couldn't be missed even from a distance, and today the grinning lunatic's brilliant colours seemed even brighter with the beautiful weather. I could hear people on the park rides shrieking and screaming in delight, and the rumbling whoosh of roller coasters over the peaceful laps of the sea just beside the park.

"Come on!" I nearly burst in exhilaration, tugging on Galahad's arm. "I want roller coaster!"

"You sound like Cookie Monster," giggled Franny, taking my other hand.

I grinned at her. "C'mon Franny, let's hit the Wild Mouse!"

"Who gets to the entrance first wins an ice-cream!" shouted Christopher suddenly, which sent us on a wild dash across the concrete ground, with the exception of Dagonet and Tristan.

We let Franny win, of course, but the ice-cream would have to wait because she wanted to go on the Wild Mouse straight away.

"That's a roller coaster?" asked Arthur, eyeing the Wild Mouse's white tracks suspiciously.

"Yes!" I shrieked excitedly. "I LOVE roller coasters!"

"I could see that," he laughed. "What else can get you hopping on two feet?"

Me and Colette exchanged a grin, and we shouted unanimously. "High heels!"

"C'mon, let's get into line!" urged Christopher, and we scrambled to the end of the line, which was, thankfully, not very long.

"Hey guys, too chicken to try the Wild Mouse out?" Galahad called mischievously at Arthur, who was standing outside with Dagonet and Tristan.

"Dag's not a chicken!" Franny defended her precious babysitter determinedly.

"Are you calling _Tristan_ a chicken?" Gawain feigned shock.

"Oh come on, guys, give them a break," I laughed, feeling exceptionally happy though Tristan was there.

It had been two days since the Carnival, and we had avoided each other pretty well. I had barely seen him thanks to Mrs. O'Hare, who enlisted the guys help in clearing out her attic. And I had been busy going shopping with mum and Colette at the most amazing showrooms downtown, thanks to Selina's connections at Australian Vogue.

Which brought me back to the issue of the divorce. We hadn't gotten the lowdown on the matter since the disastrous meeting about a week ago, and mum didn't bring the topic up on the shopping trip, so I hadn't given it too much thought. I supposed they would tell us what would happen when they were ready.

Meanwhile, we would just enjoy our summer holidays.

After two rounds on the Wild Mouse and making hilarious faces for the ride photos, we decided that it was time for the Aloof Trio to get a taste of the roller coaster.

"We're fine watching, I assure you!" argued Arthur desperately, practically digging his heels in the ground like Flintstone.

"Come_ on_ Arthur!" I managed between snorts of laughter. "It's fun, I can guarantee you that!"

"I'll sit with you!" offered Franny graciously with her flushed cheeks and messy hair.

Galahad was snickering uncontrollably as he pushed the trio to the line, which was very short since it was lunch hour. We made encouraging noises as the guys were strapped to the seats in the little white carts. I burst out laughing at Arthur's face as he turned to glare at us, which was white as the roller coaster track itself.

"Remember to smile for the camera!" called out Lancelot teasingly as the carts started to rattle.

We kept our eyes on the carts, and we all leaned forward as the cart carrying our beloved friends were about to make its first drop- and fell into a hysterical fit of chortles when Arthur screamed like a hungry baby eagle as the cart charged downhill.

"Oh my God this is too good!" squeaked Colette, clinging onto Lancelot to stay upright.

I was bent over and could barely breathe from laughing so hard when Arthur unsteadily made his way to us, a delighted Franny prancing at his side.

"Had fun?" guffawed Gawain.

I glanced at Tristan and Dagonet, who seemed rather composed if not a bit green in the face. I quickly turned away when I felt another wave of laughter threatening to spill.

"Can I have my ice-cream now?" asked Franny breathlessly, still bouncing.

Christopher grinned and swung her up to his shoulders to her glee. "Sure pumpkin, then to Coney Island we'll go!"

------------------

I couldn't remember having as much fun at Lunar Park. The crazy funhouse which was already insane enough with its tilting planks and gigantic slides reached a new level of lunacy with the medieval cowboys totally amazed. Let's just say that there were obviously no slides in 5th century Britain.

We had amazing fun at the Dodgems. Gawain and I shared a car, and we dedicated the whole length of the ride sneaking up on Arthur and Dagonet, bumping the crap out of them as they drove sensibly (a.k.a. stupidly) around the pool.

We started a contest earlier in the afternoon to see who could go on the most rides without throwing up. By five o'clock, me and Galahad were on a tie. We had so far braved Wild Mice eight times (the attendant actually let us stay in our seats for three consecutive rides), four times on the Flying Saucer, five on the Tumble Bug, and two on the Spider.

I had to admit that I was impressed by Galahad. Not many people were as immune to 18-metre drops or crazy spins as I am.

After Franny had finally finished going on all the kiddie rides twice and Dagonet was clutching a giant stuffed bear named Barney he won at a game stall for her, we journeyed to the only ride we had not attempted yet.

"Our final battle ground," I announced grandly. "The Ranger."

Even Galahad's eyes widened at the Ranger.

The ride was like a pirate ship, only that it swung forward and backward. Not just that, it also stopped upside down and did 360 degree spins. Which meant wild fun.

The excited hollers from the people on the Ranger only got me even more hyper.

"What are our scores?" asked Gawain.

"You're in second place," replied Arthur, who became the secretary for this game. I guess he was good at administrative work. "You need to stay on this ride for ten times to level Faye and Galahad."

Gawain puffed his chest out comically. "I'll stay on that thing for eleven rides."

We laughed at that, and I slapped him playfully on his shoulder. "I'll hold you to that."

In the end it was me, Galahad, Gawain and Christopher who ventured on the Ranger. We waved wildly at our gang on solid ground, who waved back to us and cheered like they were watching a soccer match.

"We're starting to get strange looks," commented Gawain, winking at a girl who was staring at us with raised eyebrows.

"Wait till we're up in the air!" I grinned.

The Ranger was absolutely my favourite ride. I squealed and screamed with the rest of the crowd as we were flung mercilessly from side to side, defying gravity itself. What I loved most about the ride was the part when they hang you upside down. Over my shrieks I could hear the guys hollering something incoherent, which sent me over the edge with hysteric giggles.

The 360 degree spin was an added bonus. I could hear Galahad going "whoooooooaaa" next to me as we were swept on a full rotation. I loved the feeling of wind gushing all around me and the flops of my stomach as we went up and down.

The ride ended far too soon, but it seemed enough for Gawain, who barely managed two steps away from his seat before falling sideways unceremoniously.

"So much for the eleven times," I snickered as my brother and Galahad hauled him up. Only my windswept hair felt out of place. "Come on, Galahad! Let's go!"

In the end, it was me and Galahad who went on a fourth time, with Christopher withdrawing after his second go. The guy in charge of the ride grinned at us as we strapped ourselves to the Ranger again.

"Want me to prepare a barfing bag?" he joked.

"Nah, you can keep it as a hat," I replied with a giggle, in full hyper mode.

This time, the ride seemed more surreal than ever. Air whooshed loudly in my ears and flashing colours of blue and gold and orangey purple were the only things my vision allowed. My sensations were heightened tenfold and I felt my heart leaping as we soared up to great heights.

I was feeling like a rag doll when the ride finished. But an overexcited one, nonetheless.

"Whoa, I feel like I'm floating," I giggled as I hopped off my seat.

"I feel like I'm drunk," said Galahad, swaying violently.

We swaggered back to our mob, where we were greeted like heroes.

"I heard you scream Faye!" shrieked Franny, tugging on my t-shirt.

"Whoa," I nearly fell over from the tugging. Actually, I did, only that I fell onto Tristan.

"Whoops, sorry," I giggled, trying to stand upright, but ended up crashing into him again.

"That's enough roller coasters for a day," said Christopher cheerfully. "Let's go on the Ferris Wheel!"

"Wait, who won?" I demanded.

"It's a tie," announced Arthur brightly.

"What? A tie?" I squealed indignantly.

"No fair!" Galahad agreed. "Only one can win."

Colette rolled her eyes. "Alright, the one who walks the straightest line wins."

I pushed myself off Tristan, and said, "Bring it on!"

I guess me and Galahad were quite a sight, both walking like two blades of grass waving in the wind. We kept bumping into each other and falling sideways before picking ourselves up sharply, then smashed into each other again.

"So this is what it feels like to be drunk," I commented curiously as we reached the Ferris Wheel.

"It's still a tie, you two look like you just came out from a washing machine," said Christopher with a grin.

"Ferris Wheel time!" sang Colette, hooking her arm through Lancelot's.

I was still trying to regain my balance when I was whisked onto a cart on the Ferris Wheel. It took me a few seconds to adjust to my seat and when my eyes focused, I saw Tristan sitting opposite to me.

"Why the heck are you sitting with me?" I asked, still feeling a bit tipsy.

"We were the only pair left," he answered flatly.

"Oh," I said intelligently.

I was sprawled comfortably in my plastic white seat, my legs crossed at the ankles, totally trespassing Tristan's half of the small cart. I ignored the dark look he threw at my offending limbs and turned to admire the spectacular view of Darling Harbour instead.

The calm waters were painted a fiery red, and it glimmered with glimpses of gold and white sailboats. The Opera House and the Sydney Bridge looked unearthly in the sunset, breathtakingly dazzling. A strong breeze went by, and I sighed happily.

"Beautiful."

My eyes snapped to Tristan's, but he was gazing straight through me at the Harbour. I mentally pouted. Weren't guys supposed to say beautiful and look at the girl sitting opposite to them?

But then, Tristan wasn't just any guy. He was a medieval knight. A scout. A very good-looking one at that.

I followed his gaze and stared back at the amazing splashes of colours spilled below us. My balance fully restored now, I leant forward and propped my elbows on my knees, then put my head with my hands, tilting my head to the right so I could have an unobstructed view as we were towed aloft slowly.

We were nearing the top when my eyes drifted back to Tristan, still gazing at the Harbour. There was something different about his gaze though. Usually it was hard and impersonal, but today, he seemed to have relaxed.

His posture gave him away. He was sitting with a slight slouch like he usually did, but his shoulders were relaxed. He had draped his right arm over the side of the cart, and he had actually crossed his legs. In a manly way of course. Right ankle on left knee, that sort.

He was a perfect picture in the sunset.

He was in his customary outfit- an unbuttoned white polo, dark-washed destroyed jeans a bit loose on his frame, and old Nikes. And I couldn't tear my eyes from him.

Even when he turned and caught me staring.

Again, I found myself wondering how a person's eyes can be so dark, so intense. Seemingly bottomless.

My pulse quickened as uncrossed his long legs and leant forward too, our eyes locked all the way till we were only inches apart.

Our cart had stopped at the very top of the Ferris Wheel.

His eyes flickered to my lips, and my heart skipped a beat.

"Don't you _dare_," I broke the tentative silence, albeit a bit shakily.

I wasn't sure why I said that, since it was the furthest from the truth at that moment. Tristan was right- it was my pride.

To my utmost astonishment, Tristan coolly backed away and leant back in his seat comfortably, bowing his head in a mock salute.

"As my lady wishes," he drawled with a small smirk.

I had to strain my jaw to keep it from falling open as I stared at him in wide-eyed wonder. Since when did he listen to me?

We were still staring at each other, like it were a freaking staring match or something.

Then I snapped.

I leant forward, grabbed the V of his polo and yanked him forward, his lips crashing onto mine as I took him by surprise.

Immediately, I felt silly, since I had literally no experience in the field of lip-locking. But I found that I had nothing to worry about once Tristan took control.

This time was different from the last. A kiss in a corridor- even one with Tristan- was nothing compared one on the Ferris Wheel.

He had gently pulled me to him so we were sharing the same seat. My arms were comfortably wrapped around his neck and I could feel his on my back.

It was a pretty gentle kiss, I supposed. His lips were warm and prying, funnily sweet. Like the candy floss we bought from the food stall earlier on in the afternoon.

When I opened my eyes again, the Sydney tower was leisurely looming above us again. I felt my cheeks flush from the persistent gaze Tristan was pinning me under, but the heat was soothed by a brisk breeze. I let my hands slide from his shoulders and diverted my eyes to the bright lights of the Park.

Our cart swept by the bottom of the Wheel and up again on our second revolution. Tristan took my chin and kissed me again, a bit more pressingly this time. I was yielding to his closeness when my eyes suddenly snapped open.

I pulled back a little and asked, a bit accusingly, "What about Midge?"

He answered against my lips. "I finished with her yesterday."

I couldn't help but grin. "Oh good. No worries then."

I think we got a bit distracted. The next time I opened my eyes, we were staring at an inky sky lit up with brilliant lights from all around the quiet Harbour.

------------------

Finally, dear Tristan got rid of Midge. I hope you guys are happy with this chapter, though it was pure fluff and roller coasters.

And I'm sorry for the delay and the relative shortness of this chapter. I'm afraid this is the best I could do, an update every ten days or so, since school has started yesterday and it's bound to be hectic. There aren't that many chapters left though, so yes, I'll be finishing this story before my big exams.

Thanks so much for the reviews last time! You just set a new record for the story. I love you guys, this chapter is dedicated to you all!


	16. The Perks of Having a Medieval Boyfriend

Chapter 16: The Perks of a Having Medieval Boyfriend

"I hate swimsuits," I wrinkled my nose at my reflection in the full-length mirror of the female dressing room at the Club. "I'm fat."

Colette's head popped into my line of vision. After a moment's careful scrutiny, she announced, "You're not fat. Not really, anyways."

"Geez, thanks, that really boosted my self-esteem," I muttered sarcastically, eyeing my thighs that were a bit too full for my liking.

"Can we get out there yet?" asked my annoyingly fit twin sister, who was trotting around in her bikini.

"No," I pouted, turning away from the mirror. "I'm fat."

"Oh shut up, you're not fat!"

"Of course not, I'm obese!" I shrieked in frustration. A girl sporting a perfect body entering that split moment gave me a look of self-satisfaction, which did not exactly help my hysteria much.

Colette sighed. "If you want to wear a diving suit for an afternoon swim, suit yourself. No pun intended."

I was just about to proceed to the counter for a diving suit when an impatient Franny came bounding in.

"Galahad thought you drowned in the toilets!" she screeched, laughing delightfully. "C'mon! We're playing Shark!"

Before I could protest, I was dragged outside into the bright afternoon sunshine, under which noisy teenagers milled around the pool. I self-consciously folded my arms at my chest, trying to hide behind my taller sister. Which was difficult, considering the fact that Franny was tugging relentlessly on my arm, removing me from Colette's shadow.

"Here are the ladies!" exclaimed a bare-chested Lancelot, who was standing with the guys at the edge of the pool.

I glared at everyone and said, "Let's get over with this, shall we?"

"Why the long face, Faye?" asked Gawain teasingly.

"Nothing," I snapped. "Go on. Play Shark."

"We'll have to go over there," Dagonet pointed to the further side of the pool. "We'd probably knock half the people unconsciously if we played here."

"Alright, go on, go on, we don't have all day," I said in rapid-fire, leading the pack edgily.

"What's wrong with her?" I heard Arthur whisper fearfully.

I spun around and shouted, "I'm fat, that's what!"

"You're not… fat," said Galahad after glancing at me, far from reassuring.

"Oh great, now it's universally recognized," I threw up my hands. "Why? Why me?"

"You're _not_ fat, Faye," said Arthur kindly. "You may not be thin by the standards of this world, but you're definitely not fat. You're healthy."

"I agree," smiled Dagonet in his comforting manner.

Just when I felt a bit consoled by my ever genteel friend, a tall, legging blonde who could've easily passed as a model swaggered passed us, and we fell silent as we watched her show.

"Alright, I'm outta here," I raised my hands in surrender, making to turn around but Franny caught my arm.

"You're beautiful in your own way, Faye," she said solemnly. "_I_ think you're pretty. Who cares what other people think."

Ah, the bliss of youth.

A small smile twisted my lips. "Thanks pumpkin."

Franny grinned widely and asked, "Can we play Shark now?"

I nodded reluctantly. "Okay. Let's go."

Franny happily took the lead with Dagonet holding her hand, and I fell back in step with Tristan, who was watching me with amused eyes.

"What?" I asked sharply.

"You do not seem the type to be so self-conscious," he said quietly.

"I'm a teenager, of course I'm self-conscious. I'm_ supposed_ to be self-conscious," I replied with a roll of my eyes. "I know you're perfect and all, don't rub it in."

He arched an eyebrow and said, "Don't put words in my mouth."

"Fine, whatever," I moodily turned away and tossed my hair back.

I cringed when I saw that the modelish blonde had reclined on a chair, showcasing her unbelievably fit body to all that passed. Including us.

I peered at Tristan from the corner of my eye and saw his dark ones drift to the sunbathing girl, lingering a bit too long for my liking.

I glared the oblivious scout. He was going to pay.

Edging him a bit closer to the pool, I calmly shoved him hard in the arm, successfully throwing him off balance and right into the pool with a triumphant splash.

Laughs erupted around the pool as I feigned a look of shock. Franny in particular had fallen over in hysterics, and was rolling on the ground in fits of laughter. Tristan appeared a second later, his dark hair plastered on his wet face, looking none too pleased as he pinned me with a glare.

"Oops, must have lost control of my muscles for a split second back there," I said sweetly.

Christopher, who still cherished a slight dislike against Tristan, chortled when he heard me. "Good one, Faye!"

Galahad grinned and patted me on the shoulder. "Very well done, my dear, not everyone can pull that off on our friend."

"Oh it was nothing," I said modestly. I waited till Tristan hauled himself out of the water before I said loudly. "Besides, it was_ him_ who got a bit distracted."

"Uh-oh," I heard Gawain say before Tristan dragged me off to one side, putting on a pretty intimidating face as he bore down on me.

"Lovely weather we've got, is it not?" I asked with a pleasant smile.

"What was that for?" he asked gruffly, running a hand through his hair to smooth the wet strands away from his eyes.

"Oh, I'm not sure, I guess your eyes found the wrong place to stay," I said smoothly, trying not to think how fine he looked even after falling right into a pool.

His eyes narrowed threateningly. "You're asking for trouble, aren't you?"

"Trouble! I thought you knew me well enough. I'm a good girl, you know," I batted my eyelashes exaggeratedly at him.

His lips curled up in a lopsided smirk. "I'm sure. A very spiteful one, to that."

"You wound me," I said sarcastically, making to push pass him.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me back to him, his eyes dead serious. "You're gonna pay for that, you know."

I sighed dramatically. "Can't take a joke, can you?"

He gave a firm shake of his head and walked towards the pool, peeling his soaked polo from his tanned torso as he went.

"Must be_ that_ time of the month," I muttered under my breath, making an attempt to divert my attention from his back.

He turned abruptly, half-teasing as he chased me to where the others were waiting.

------------------------

I was waiting for my turn to shower in the kitchen, nursing a can of Sunkist when a prolonged "shiiiiit" rang through the house.

"What?" I shouted, making my way to the hall.

"I forgot that we were having dinner with mum at Four Seasons tonight!" yelled Colette from upstairs.

"Us four?"

"NO! The whole bunch!"

"What?!" I screamed in panic. "What time?"

"In forty minutes!"

"Why didn't I know?" I asked Chris, who came out from the TV room.

"You were at the movies with Kim, I think," he replied. "Shit. Someone get Lancelot out of the bathroom!"

"Faye! Get yourself up here and pick out an outfit, will you?" bellowed Colette urgently as she sprinted into mum's room.

I sighed. "Look, you pick it out for me, I'll go and bug Lancelot. I can do with a shower."

It took fifteen minutes of yelling, banging on the door and many ruthless threats to get the beauty-holic knight out of the bathroom, who bowed amiably to me as he walked leisurely to his room.

It did not take me long to cleanse myself of the smell of chloride, and I found a black-tie outfit ready for me on my bed. I recognized the dark blue minidress, which was picked up from one of the showrooms we raided with mum some months ago. A pang of guilt hit me. Truth to be told, I hadn't troubled myself with the divorce for some time, since mum was rarely home and we hadn't heard anything about it for nearly a week.

Oh well, tonight would make mum happy. She still hadn't been properly introduced to the guys, and I was sure she would love them.

I quickly slipped on the dress, tried to pull it longer without completely uncovering my upper body, before giving up and turned to fix my hair. I quickly blow-dried it, lamenting its dull brown colour on the way, but I had no time to linger on that sad fact of life. Grabbing the gold clutch I got for my birthday and stuffing it with the bare necessities of a teenager, I slipped on the precariously high black satin heels picked out for me and staggered out of my room.

The house was curiously quiet as I clattered my way down the stairs, and was surprised to find only Tristan seated comfortably on the sofa, his eyes on the television, as I entered the TV room.

"Where are the others?" I asked.

"They left first," he said, turning off the TV. "Let's go."

I eyed his choice of clothes appreciatively. He was adequately dressed up for a black-tie dinner, but still reserved a fraction of his disheveled self. His white shirt was roughly tucked into black trousers, the top button undone, his tie hanging loose around his neck, his matching jacket flung over his shoulder.

Who would've guessed he was a knight from thousands of years ago?

He drove us there, since he obviously learnt the art of driving when I was too busy to notice. We arrived at the Four Seasons hotel just on time- seven on the dot- and we handed dad's car over to the people at the entrance. Or whatever you call the people who park cars for you at a hotel. Anyways.

We walked into the grandeur of the five-star hotel, crosing the luxurious marble floor and into a lift. I grinned as I watched Tristan glance at himself in one of the mirrors, and he turned to me with a small smirk.

"What?" he asked shortly.

"Swooning over your good looks?" I teased.

I squealed as he reached out to take hold of me, but the lift doors then opened to reveal an elegant restaurant and we quickly snapped back into our sensible persona.

I accepted the arm Tristan offered me and we walked properly to the waitress smiling politely at us at the door.

"Good evening, you are Mr.-?" she asked cordially.

"Wilcox," he answered, to my surprise.

The waitress ticked off something on her list and smiled at us. "Yes, Mr. Wilcox, this way please."

I gave Tristan a look. "Wilcox?" I whispered into his ear.

He gave me a half-smile and shrugged.

I was straining to look for the noisiest table, but all around were closely huddled couples, talking softly with the accompaniment of a live jazz band, playing romantic music animatedly. We followed the waitress out of a pair of stately oak doors and into an outdoor deck, where more dainty round tables were assembled on the dark wooden floor.

When we stopped at one of these candle-lit tables, I finally got it. Gasping, I couldn't help the grin that broke out on my face as I took the seat Tristan gallantly pulled out for me.

"You lied to me!" I laughed more than accused as he sat down opposite to me.

He gave a small smile and said nonchalantly, "It wasn't my idea."

"The lying part or this?" I demanded.

He shrugged vaguely and I hit his arm playfully, my giddiness showing through in my uncharacteristic giggling.

I mean, seriously. Who would've thought Tristan could be _that _romantic?

After we ordered our food, I stared out at the picturesque garden beneath us, where beautiful stone paths led to a small, currently empty swimming pool. The weather was perfect, a gentle breeze prevailed, the sky was clear and the stars were bright. I sighed contently, and when I turned away from the pool I found Tristan staring at me.

"Hmmm? Like what you see?" I asked jokingly.

I knew Tristan would never flatter a girl that way, and I was fine with it. He smirked as habit required, then said, "I hope you're enjoying yourself."

I made a non-committal sound and said, "It's okay. I mean, the place is nice, but the _company_-" I gave him a pointed look "-leaves much to be desired-"

I muffled my squeal with my right hand as he caught my other, giving me one of his rare teasing smiles.

"Am I unfit for your unparalleled company?" he asked lightly, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

"I'm afraid so," I replied in a haughty tone. "You did stare at that girl at the pool today, you know." I gave him a meaningful glare.

"I was punished for that?" he asked, actually looking surprised.

"Well, duh. I'm a girl. Girls are jealous beings. 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.' Ever heard of that before?" I paused, then quickly amended myself. "Oh right, Shakespeare wasn't even born then. Whatever."

Tristan smirked. "You were jealous."

"Yes, I was," I said plainly. "So sue me."

"I am truly flattered, my lady," he bowed his head.

I snorted quite in a very unladylike manner. "I was just about to tell you not to flatter yourself."

Our conversation was interrupted by our soups, and we fell into silence as we devoured the excellent lobster chowder.

"Do you miss home, Tristan?" I blurted out.

He looked up with a curious expression, then said, "Yes."

I waited for him to continue, but Tristan being Tristan, went on sipping his soup. "Well?"

"What do you want me to talk about."

"Um, your home?"

"There's nothing to talk about."

"There's plenty to talk about!" I argued. "You know everything about me, you _live_ with me, what the heck. It's only fair you share something about you."

I could tell that he was trying to get away with it as he stared unwaveringly at me, but I just stared back at him and smiled agreeably. A few moments later, he broke the silence.

"Alright."

"Yippee!" I joked, putting on an angelic face. "Alright, I'm ready for a story. Shoot."

"I was born in Sarmatia," he started.

"Where's Sarmatia?"

"Somewhere near Britain."

"Oookay. Go on."

"I was taken by the Romans when I was eleven, as all Sarmatian boys have been for the past hundred years. We have to serve the Roman Empire as knights for fifteen years, exclusive of the length of travel to our station. I was into my ninth year of service when I got here, along with the others."

He stopped. I blinked.

"That's it?" I prompted.

"That's all you'd want to know," he said, finality in his voice.

We were quiet for a while, as I threw his story around in my head. Questions flew about my mind, but his suddenly distant look told me it was not the time to ask.

"Do you like me?" I asked suddenly.

This time he smiled. "I have always wondered why women like to ask this."

I narrowed my eyes at that. "How many women have asked you that?"

He humbly answered, "A few."

Faking anger, I stood up and threw my napkin into my chair. "Well, you obviously don't like me enough to keep that secret from me. Enjoy your soup."

Part of me was worried that he was too thick to get the joke, but thankfully he did and wrapped an arm around my waist, turning me around to him.

"Jealousy doesn't become you," he breathed into my ear with a smirk.

"Really, Tristan, you are in dire need of tips on wooing girls," I smirked back at him. "Rule number one: do not mention other girls in the face of another. Understood?"

"Perfectly," he saluted me with a rare shot of humour.

"Good. Now, I'd hate for the soup to turn cold."

------------------------

No romantic dinner was complete without a walk in the moonlight. After Tristan paid the bill, we trooped down the stairs to the pool we had been overlooking.

"The chocolate pudding was _divine_," I gushed, the sweetness still fresh in my mouth. "I wish I could bake like that."

"Give Dagonet the recipe," suggested Tristan, his hands in his pockets.

"Yes, that should work, I'll have to remember to ask the chef though," I nodded in agreement. "I just _love_ this garden."

Tristan looked around and led me onto one of the many stone paths that surrounded the pool.

"It is pleasant enough," he said.

"_Pleasant_?" I echoed. "This is like, the best hotel in town! _Pleasant_?"

"Yes, it is merely pleasant," he said nonchalantly, his dark brown eyes staring straight into mine. "Its beauty pales in comparison to yours."

My mouth must have fallen open in complete surprise. The next thing I was aware of was cold water rushing into my nasal cavity.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" I spluttered as I reached the surface.

Tristan was actually chuckling as I paddled to the edge of the pool. How dare him!

"Are you alright?" he asked with a pleased smile, offering me his hand.

"Oh yes, of course," I grabbed his hand and pulled with all my might.

I grinned as he tumbled in right next to me.

I was about to get out of the pool when I was pulled down to the water, illuminated by numerous inbuilt lights. When I broke to the surface, I was breathing right into Tristan's face, both furious and amused.

"Your plan didn't really turn out right, did it?" I asked delightfully.

"No, it turned out exactly as I wanted," he answered, then leisurely fitted his lips gently on mine.

I didn't know how it was possible, but his kisses just got better every time. I was enjoying it immensely when we heard hurried footsteps above our heads. I regretfully pushed him away when a concerned face appeared above us.

"We heard screaming, is everything alright?" asked the waiter worriedly.

"Yeah, we just lost our footing, that's all," I answered promptly. "Sorry for the trouble."

"Here, miss, let me help you."

I love Four Seasons. With just a mild look of discontent, we were whisked off to a spa treatment, and were changed into brand new clothes from the Chanel boutique right after we were dried. Plus, we got the secret chocolate pudding recipe. Talk about first-class service.

"Your clothes will be delivered to your address ten o'clock tomorrow morning," said the manager of the hotel as he shut the car door after I slid into the passenger seat. "We apologize for the incident."

"I'm sorry for all the trouble," I said apologetically.

"The pleasure was all ours," he replied with a smile. "Good night."

When the hotel was out of sight, I burst out laughing.

"This is ridiculous!" I managed to choke out as Tristan smirked at my frenzied behaviour.

He shrugged and dutifully kept his eyes on the road. I moved over and gave him a peck on his cheek. He gave me a funny look and I smiled.

"Thanks for the wonderful night," I said, grinning like a madwoman.

Tristan simple smirked.

------------------------

First of all, I'm sorry for the LONG wait! I've been incredibly busy and short of inspiration, I hope this chapter was up to par. As I said before, I can't guarantee another update in the near future, you'll have to bear with me, my dear readers! Thank you for your support, I love reading your reviews, your lovely comments are my motivation to continue!

I hope all you enjoyed this chapter, it is dedicated to all you wonderful readers :


	17. Yeah, I Think So Too

Chapter 17: Yeah, I Think So Too 

I was idly flapping a page of my Big Book of Philosiphers when someone knocked on my door.

"Come in," I called out lazily, my eyes staring straight at the page full of words unseeingly.

The door opened and closed quietly. I didn't have to look up to know who it was.

I patted the empty spot beside me on my watersofa. "Sit."

He did, and the sofa squirmed under his weight. After it settled down, he said, "You were quiet tonight at dinner."

"No I wasn't," I retorted, turning a page. "I'm just normally loud."

"You hardly spoke a word today," he pointed out.

My eyes drifted to my white door. "I just don't feel like talking that's all."

He shifted and the sofa followed his movement. "Something's wrong."

I shrugged and tossed the book onto the carpeted floor, then crossed my legs and stubbornly fixed my gaze on the ceiling. "Not really."

His hand touched my knee. I looked at him. He smirked. "You can't fool me, you know."

"I never said I was trying to fool you," I replied nonchalantly.

"You went silent after that phone call in the morning," he stated.

I shouldn't have been surprised, really. But my eyebrows shot up.

"I know, I know," I muttered at his smug smirk. "You can read me like a book."

"You wanna talk about it?" he asked gently, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head.

I chewed my lips thoughtfully. "Well. I don't know. Maybe."

"You wanna talk to Dag about it. Or Arthur." he suggested, and I gave him an odd look. He shrugged at that. "Maybe you'd feel more comfortable talking to them."

"Why?" I asked, peering at him. "I thought you're my boyfriend."

"I'm not naturally sympathetic," he replied.

I grinned, but it didn't really reach my eyes. "Nobody expects you to be," I teased.

He mirrored my grin. "Still wanna talk."

I went silent and fiddled with my fingers for a moment, trying to get my chaotic thoughts in order. Tristan was right about the phone call in the morning- it threw me, us, into chaos. Even I noticed that we were sort of quiet all through the day.

"Jake called this morning," I began, and I saw that Tristan's jaw muscle twitched at my childhood friend's name. I decided to let that drop and went on, "He called to tell us that our parents' divorce is going on as planned."

Tristan sighed and drew me into a hug. "I'm sorry to hear that," he muttered into my hair.

I nodded. "I am too. It's going through next Tuesday."

"What of your custody?" Tristan released me but grabbed my hand.

"We're staying here with mum and dad's moving to Cairns," I said. "Cairns is a city in Queensland, up North. It's beautiful there. But that's beside the point. So we're going on with life as normal but minus dad."

"Has your mum talked to you about it yet."

I nodded. "She called this afternoon. She sounds really stressed out. She said she's coming home tomorrow and she's selling off all of dad's expensive stuff and donate the money to WWF then burn the rest."

Tristan smirked. "Can't wait to see that."

I smiled weakly. Tristan scrutinized me and I looked away.

"What else do you want to tell me?" he asked softly.

Damn. I crossed my legs uncomfortably and turned to face him. "Um, there's this other little issue."

He nodded solemnly, as if I was going to tell him that tomorrow would be the end of the world.

I took a deep breath. "Mum enrolled me in this boarding school in the UK, and she wants to send me there for the rest of my high school years."

Tristan's face remained carefully stony. "So you'll be leaving."

"Yeah, in two months," I answered. "_If_ I agree to go."

"You're still unsure about it."

"Of course I am!" I flung my hands upwards in exasperation. "She's just asked me to give up all I have here to go to some goddamn boarding school- for girls may I add- to finish my education _hello_?!"

He smirked at my outburst. "Feelin' better huh."

"Oh shut up," I grunted. "It's not funny. I have to wear a _uniform_ for heaven's sake. And it's green."

"You can choose not to go right?" he asked. I looked up, having heard something alike to uncertainty in his voice.

"It depends really," I said cautiously. "On whether you guys are still staying here."

"Do we have anywhere else to go," he arched an eyebrow at that.

I shrugged. "How do I know if you guys go 'puff' back to where you came from?"

"Does it work like that."

"I think someone up there may be able to answer that question," I pointed at the inky sky outside my window.

We were quiet for a minute or two as we both stared at the darkness beyond my window.

"Do you think you'll ever be going back?" I broke the silence.

It took him a moment to reply. "Yeah. I think so."

Sadness settled in my stomach as I nodded.

"Yeah, I think so too."

-----------------

My last update before my public exams! I'm sorry for keeping you waiting for so long, but I'm very busy with my studies. I promise I'll finish the story after my exams, which is around late May. There are just a few more chapters to go, thanks for sticking with me, my loyal readers!

Sorry for the short chapter, but it's really important for me to establish something concrete to go on with the story. I hope you enjoyed it anyway!

See you all in May!


	18. What Happens When It Rains

Chapter 18: What Happens When It Rains  


The knights must be some good luck charm or something. The weather had been beautiful ever since their arrival, the sun showing its face every day for more than three and a half weeks, never too hot, always breezy.

But then the run of luck came to an abrupt halt when the rainstorms hit Sydney. It had been raining for three days straight now. Not the polite drizzle kind of rain, but the fierce torrents of rain and wind. The most probable explanation was that Mother Nature had finally caught up with us and got thoroughly sick of Galahad's warped versions of the Bee Gees, which he belted out while he showered. Well, actually, after his showers as well, unfortunately.

Naturally, none of us wanted to venture out in this kind of weather. Only mum went out every morning to her yoga class (which she taught), then stayed out in some dry place till evening and joined us for dinner.

There were only four days till Le Divorce, and mum was acting as if it didn't exist. Seriously, I was more fidgety than she was. She hardly even acknowledged it, in fact, after having briefly announced it over the dinner table last week. She was so nonchalant about it that she could have been telling us that some archaeologist dug up a spoon somewhere in Egypt.

Geez. Didn't she even _care_ about that fact that she was about to split from her partner of more than twenty years?

She was particularly early this morning, yelling something about getting a suit downtown before yoga and disappeared, while I was wrestling with Arthur for the last banana.

"What'd she say?" asked Christopher, finally emerging from the fridge having found his bottled Starbucks.

"She's getting a suit," replied Arthur.

"A swimsuit?"

"No, business suit, stupid," I rolled my eyes. "For the divorce, apparently."

"Ah, right."

In an effort to amuse ourselves when the rain started two days ago, we unearthed a brand new box of Sims 2 in the attic. We proceeded to rip it open and spent two thirds of the past two days fighting for the computer.

After breakfast, I began building a luxurious extension for my Sim with the entire household sitting around me, itching to throw me out of my seat.

"How come you're a billionaire?" pouted Galahad, whose Sim owned a tiny house with only a bed and a table to live on.

"Because I'm smart," I grinned. "Does zebra print look right with yellow?"

"No!_ That_ blue looks best," said Colette, poking the screen.

"When's my turn?" whined Gawain.

"Don't be a baby," teased Colette, patting him on the head. "It's my turn after Faye's."

Just then the front door slammed and we heard Franny's wellies screech as she skidded to a halt in front of the TV Room.

"I won! I won!" she shrieked, sending water flying off her raincoat as she did a funny dance.

"You won what, pumpkin?" asked Christopher.

"I won Puddles!"

"What's Puddles?" asked Arthur.

"It's a game, silly!"

"Oh."

"Franny!" called Dagonet from the hall. "Come here and take off your wellies, you're flooding the house."

Caught off guard, I screamed and fell face first onto the carpet when Gawain shoved me out of my chair and commandeered the computer.

"Hey! I'm not finished yet!" I protested, throwing myself at him in an attempt to push him away but he didn't even budge.

"Oh yes you are," Gawain made a face at me.

I scowled. "Cheat."

"I'm making hot chocolate with marshmallows," boomed Dagonet on his way to the patio with Franny's raingear. "Who doesn't want one?"

Silence.

"Okay, make yourselves comfortable and for heaven's sake get off that computer before you all go blind!" Dagonet stared sternly at Gawain, who groaned but obeyed.

Smugly, I turned off the computer and kicked Gawain playfully in the shin as he trudged away. The others snuggled cheerfully into beanbag chairs and puffy cushions. I joined Tristan on a gigantic fluffy purple cushion, leaning back against the sofa Arthur sat, cross-legged.

"Good morning," I smiled, and gave Tristan a cheeky peck on the cheek.

"Yuck!" called out Gawain.

"Jealous?" I said sweetly.

Tristan just shook his head and turned the TV on.

Galahad must have left us without us noticing, because he appeared suddenly, hauling a large paper box behind him.

"I found something!" he said excitedly.

"Oooh, Galahad found something!" teased Lancelot, trailing behind the box. Obviously he had only just finished his daily beauty rituals with his dark curls glistening.

"Your hair grew out again," I remarked as he sat down next to me.

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Might have to call Albert for an appointment."

"I like it that way," declared Colette from across the room with a flirty smile.

"Really? Looks like don't need to call Albert after all," winked Lancelot.

"You two are making me puke," I pretended to gag.

"My pleasure," he yelped as I hit him on his head.

"HEY! Aren't you interested in what I found?" asked Galahad.

"Very," nodded Tristan solemnly.

Arthur and Gawain snickered.

"Aw, come on, give poor Galahad a break," I spoke up in his defence. "What _did _you find, Galahad? Don't tell me, you found porn in dad's wardrobe didn't you?"

"FAYE!" yelled the whole room, unexpectedly.

"What?" I muttered weakly.

"Naughty girl," smirked Tristan. He didn't flinch when I punched him on the arm.

I shrieked when something solid hit me square in the face. I peeled it off my face and opened my mouth to yell at Galahad, but laughter took its place.

"Look!" I jabbed my finger at the laminated page. "It's Colette with her Cleopatra hair!" Heads crowded around my face and all hell broke loose.

Colette's eyes widened in alarm. "WHAT?"

Even Tristan chuckled when he saw the picture and I grinned evilly at Colette, who was stumbling over to my seat. I tossed the photo album to Gawain, who burst into peels of laughter.

"You were really cute, Colette," grinned Arthur. "Actually, you two looked more alike when you were kids."

"Yeah, until my beauty genes suddenly died off and migrated to Colette," I joked.

"Oh look! It's Christopher!" cooed Lancelot, peering intently into another album.

"You sound gay," snorted Galahad.

"Who sounds gay?" asked Dagonet, entering with a tray of colourful mugs. "What's this?" He raised an eyebrow at the big brown box.

"Photo albums!" I answered, waving mine above my head like a flag. "We're taking a trip down our memory lane. Thanks, Dag." I took a mug and sipped. "Ah, delicious."

"I want chocolate!" yelled Franny, bursting into the room in dry clothes. "Thanks Daggie."

"Watch out, it's hot," smiled Dag fondly.

"Ooooh photos!" said Franny excitedly, plopping onto Christopher's lap. "Let me see!"

And see we did. Um, that sounded weird. But we did.

We flipped through photos from our early years, and I had to smile at the goofiness of the photos. Even dad was in the photos- that was before he turned into Doctor Workaholic.

"You know, I sort of miss those days," spoke up Christopher.

I nodded. "Well, you'll have to go on missing them, they're not coming back."

We lapsed into companionable silence. I crawled to the box and dug deep until my fingers grazed a wooden cover. Closing my fingers around the wooden album, I pulled it out and gasped.

"What?" asked Galahad, instantly by my side.

"It's mum and dad's wedding album," I whispered, staring at the cover.

"'Eternally Jeanne and Ralph, 1983'," read Christopher. "Cheesy."

"Oh come on, big bro, those were the 80's," I rolled my eyes and flipped open the album. "Wow."

Franny made herself comfortable on my lap and gasped at the pictures.

"Your mother was really beautiful," murmured Tristan, peering over my shoulder.

"Is," I corrected him. "She's still beautiful."

"Mummy is beautiful," announced Franny belatedly.

"Yes, we know, pumpkin," Christopher kissed her head.

I smiled at the pictures of her in a divine white dress, practically glowing as she hugged her parents and friends at the celebration. And of course, there was dad, in a smart tux and his hair slicked back like Leonardo in Titanic.

"Dad was kinda cute, actually," admitted Colette.

"That sounds gross."

"Sorry."

We flipped through the engagement party, the wedding, the post-wedding dinner and I stopped short at a picture of my parents kissing in a balcony, the whole of Sydney sparkling below them.

"Geez, that's _gorgeous_," I breathed.

"Must have been a honeymoon suite somewhere," added Colette.

Turning over the page, two words caught my eye.

"'Shangri-La'," I read. "That must have been where they spent their wedding night."

Lancelot started talking about hotels downtown, but I wasn't listening. Something was humming in my mind. An idea. A shapeless plan. A determination.

"Do you have Jake's number?" I asked Christopher.

He looked up in surprise. "Sure, upstairs. Why?"

Tristan looked sharply up at me, and Galahad smirked. "Someone's jealous."

"It's important," I ignored the teasing. "Up you go, Franny."

"What's important?" called out Lancelot as I sprinted out of the TV Room.

"I have a plan!" I shouted, and ran upstairs to get my cell phone.

---------------------

"-so, who's chipping in?"

Galahad jumped up immediately. "Count me in."

"Me too," said Gawain.

"Why not?" shrugged Lancelot. "It's for a good cause."

Dagonet gave a firm nod and a grin, Arthur gave me a double thumbs-up, Tristan smirked.

I looked at Christopher and Colette. They rolled their eyes and said simultaneously, "Do you even have to _ask_?"

I grinned. "I love you guys."

Franny, who had been glued to Spongebob on TV, only caught my last line and hugged my legs. "I love you too, Faye!"

---------------------

"Doctor Ralph Parkhurst speaking."

"Hey, it's me," I said, crashing into the sofa with the mobile phone cradled between my ear and shoulder.

"Who?"

"_Me_."

"I'm sorry, I don't know any Me-"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm _Faye_."

Recognition flooded his voice. "Oh, hello sweetie. What can I do for you?"

_Break off the divorce may be a good start.  
_

"I'm just wondering if you'll be free this Sunday." I bit into a freshly baked chocolate muffin I stole from the kitchen. "Sunday evening."

"Why?"

"Well I'm just thinking that it would be nice for us- us as in the six of us- to have a dinner before- before, _you know_." Christopher should be proud of me. I sounded absolutely painful.

Dad paused. "Sure, I'd love to. Have you booked a table yet?"

"Yeah," I breathed a sigh of relief. "I booked a table at seven at the Shangri-La. Just ask the reception and they'll show you the way."

"Shangri-La?" Dad sounded surprised. "Do you know how much money I'll have to spend?"

"Oh, the dinner's on us," I said lightly. "Don't worry, we've got everything under control."

"If you say so," he said suspiciously.

"Relax. Just dress up nicely, and I'll see you there," I said. "Alone."

"Of course, of course."

"See you then."

"Love you, sweetie."

I found it hard to say the same. But I gritted my teeth and managed to say a quick "love ya, dad" and hung up.

"I'm back!"

"We're in the kitchen mum!" I yelled. "Dinner's about ready."

---------------------

"Okay, I'll be with you in a sec," called back mum.

I heard one of the guys yelling "hi Mrs Parkhurst!" as I continued to set the table with Tristan.

"Do you think she'll go?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "Hopefully."

I sighed. "Let's pray that she would put aside her damn pride for an evening."

I saw Tristan smirk from the corner of my eye. "What?" I asked, stopping to confront him.

"Nothing," he replied.

"You smirked just now."

"I always do," he answered smoothly.

"C'mon, spit it out, big boy," I sidled to his side and glared up at him, but I couldn't help the smile that was curving my lips.

He put down the last fork and faced me, his dark hair falling onto his face but I could see his eyes. "You're very much like your mother."

I tilted my head to the side and arced an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Your damn pride," he smirked again.

I laughed and pinched his arm half-heartedly. "You know me too well."

He grabbed me by the waist and stole a kiss. "My pleasure."

"Come on, you two! It's dinner time!"

We turned around and saw Dagonet grinning at us.

Tristan gave me a gentle push. "Go on."

I made a face at him. "Slavedriver."

"I'm going upstairs to change."

"Don't change," I protested, tugging the corner of his crumpled white shirt. "I like this shirt. It looks nice with your jeans."

Nice was an understatement. He looked hot, as usual. But well, he didn't need me to tell him. He knew it very well.

He smiled lopsidedly. "A compliment coming from you?"

I tossed my hair over my shoulder in mock snobbiness. "Take it or leave it."

He bowed jokingly. "I'm flattered, my lady."

"Geez, what an ego," I sighed dramatically.

Tristan gave me a look. "Now who's talking?"

But he didn't go up to change. I felt a ridiculous swelling in my heart that he actually listened to me.

As soon as Dagonet's famous lasagne left the oven, the whole house magically appeared at the table without being told, ready to do some serious eating. I waited till everyone was into their second helping before I decided to approach the Big Issue.

"Hey mum," I interrupted Arthur's enthusiastic dissection of Romeo and Juliet (the Leonardo version), which he just saw on TV. "Are you doing anything this Sunday evening?"

Mum scrunched up her face, and answered, "No. I don't think so. Why?"

I glanced at Tristan and he gave me a reassuring nod. "Well, I was just thinking we could have dinner at a nice restaurant."

"That's a lovely idea," chriped mum. "There's a Chanel dress I've been dying to wear anyway. Franny! You're eating like a wolf!"

Franny squealed. "I'm a wolf! Aaaawwoooooo!"

To my little sister's delight, both Galahad and Gawain joined in her howling, which nearly made her choke on her fish chowder.

I cleared my throat noisily, then kicked Galahad under the table, which finally shut him up.

"Actually," I said loudly. "I was thinking of a family dinner."

"We don't mind," added Arthur smartly.

Mum smiled kindly at him. "Are you sure? I bet there will be enough seats-"

"I already booked the table, actually," I cut in. "For six." I added nervously, meeting Christopher's eye.

Mum raised a newly shaped eyebrow. "Six?"

"Yeah, you know," Christopher came to my rescue. "Colette, Faye, Franny, me, you- and dad."

"A reunion dinner before the big day," added Colette quickly.

Mum looked at me, Christopher, then Colette, then said coolly. "Why not?"

"We'll take care of the details," I smiled. "You just need to dress up, show up, and eat up."

She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "I'll be there. It's very thoughtful of you, sweetheart."

"Oh it's nothing," I said dismissively.

"Ah, I nearly forgot," said mum suddenly. "I got my suit this morning. Do you want to see it? I may have to take it downtown for a bit of tweeking."

"Sure," me and Colette said at the same time.

_But trust me, you won't be needing it_, I thought with a smile.

---------------------

I've struggled between two directions of the plot for some time, and I think I've made the right choice. This really is my last chapter before my exams, I hope you guys enjoyed it! Thank you for the fantastic reviews, and in case you didn't know, I've started a new story,** Nudge**. It's another Tristan story, which I'll continue after my exams.

That's all for now, everyone! Happy belated Easter!


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